Well Shod
It was a wellies morning, a sandals afternoon. A blustery start followed by a few hours becalmed, if not balmy. August is twisting in the air, neither one thing nor the other. It’s hard to know how to address the days, petulant and stormy one moment, sugary and serene the next.
The shifting ground is confusing, as my footwear is usually a simple key to the seasons’ strolls. Spring and summer mean open-toe walking. Sturdy soles and sensible straps they may have, but my sandals signify freedom and an exhilarating connection to the earth. They let in the dew and the sand and the dust from hard-baked fields. They tell stories about sleeping on Portuguese beaches and encounters with Greek cats.
In autumn and winter, wellingtons are my friends, my protectors, my warmth and comfort. Neoprene-lined and snug around the calves, they feel like cosy armour. In wellies, I know I can tackle whatever the floods and muds of West Oxfordshire throw at me. They offer advice to the hardy hiking boots that sometimes visit, whispering to their porous uppers and ankle supports: not here, no good.
This time of year calls for mixed methods and an unruly shoe pile. By October, my sandals will be packed away with white trousers, flimsy dresses, straw hats, and other heady reminders of a half-decent English summer, and the wellies will triumph. But for now, both jostle for space, asking if I want to kick my way through the burgeoning piles of fallen leaves, or feel the delicious brush of damp grass against my skin.
Pick your favourite footwear. It might be a smart pair of heels or some ice skates; your beach jelly shoes or the very first cool trainers you bought for yourself. Can you write a story from the perspective of these items? What are their characteristics? Take them for a walk – what is it like for them to have to transport you from one place to another?
Close your eyes. Imagine you are barefoot and walking. What are you walking on or through? What does it feel like and what memories or ideas does the experience conjure?
Write a short poem or piece of prose about the adolescent phase of August (especially relevant in the UK, both in terms of the weather and because its exam results season). Look around and observe the turbulent transformations that are happening around you. What are the effects of these external transitions?
