A few years ago an Italian bookseller colleague sent a Christmas greeting that included a poem, in both the original Italian and English translation, by a mid-century Italian poet whose name is lost to me. I no longer remember the name of the poem either, but it moved me; the gist of it was that if you walked along a stone fence and observed very closely, you would see the entire universe contained there. Some plants would be dominant and assertive, others would be struggling for a foothold, here would be a beautiful bloom, there a dead stalk, the ants, beetles, and spiders would be building their homes and searching for food, a bird would prey on the insects, and in the stone wall itself would be the endeavor of man. At least that's how I remember it.

That concept was wafting pleasantly through my thoughts today as I walked the nearly 13 mile stretch between my truck stop hotel outside of El Burgo Ranero and Mansilla de las Mulas. It didn't have the drama of the rolling hills of recent days or the majesty of the vistas I've had after climbing previous hills. One person I talked to referred to it as boring, flat and uneventful. But it was rich. The path was adjacent to a little travelled narrow two lane road and was lined, every 20 yards or so, with an endless row of neatly planted trees. The fields were varied, some with young wheat, some with vegetables, some lying fallow, some with recently tilled rich dark brown earth, and everywhere were wildflowers, purple, yellow, red, some massing and some solitary. There were groves of trees planted in neat geometrical rows and I wondered why; wind barriers? The early morning sky was defined by the hard angled sun, later a more diffuse light, and as the day wore on it became dark gray and threatened rain; thankfully no more than a few random sprinkles appeared. The clouds were different on each horizon of the huge sky. Local trains passed nearby and the high speed trains could be seen in the far distance, silenced by the intervening winds. Power lines and irrigation devices created cool angularities. There were canals and rivulets teeming with reeds and more flowers. And lizards scurried about.

There was only one small town en route, Reliegos, where I had a terrific cheese omelette and my beloved cafe con leche in the "Bar Elvis". Incongruously, instrumental versions of early Beatles songs were booming through the speakers.

I don't want to jinx anything because I know how day-to-day this is, but I found my rhythm again today. No, not that James Brown rhythm that I've never had nor never will, but that steady body movement that felt so natural and so good and so in touch with my physical being that I just wanted to keep going. Of course by the end of 13 miles I'm completely exhausted and my feet don't want to move ever again, but it's on to Leon tomorrow!