15/10/2026
I am already missing my morning walks…
On Ikaria, nobody goes for a walk just to get exercise. We walk almost as a kind of meditation…to see and hear what the land and the season are whispering. Walking calms my soul. 🍂
This season the land whispers…autumn.
The olives turn black and the branches are heavy. The quince is almost ripe, and you smell it before you see it. The crocuses are a favorite – they're hope – a burst of brightness pushing up through dry earth. Pomegranates are splitting open for a few lucky birds before we get to them. The taboura squash, such an Ikarian classic, hangs heavy over the old stone walls in my village. The last prickly pears hang on, and the chestnuts bristle like tiny hedgehogs, almost ready. I can imagine their aroma as they roast. Part of me wants to be in front of an Ikarian tzatziki - fireplace – savoring them.🍁🧡
Walking every day, in Ikaria and everywhere I am, has become a necessary habit for me. It's mostly about clearing my head and living in the moment, slowing down, even if only for an hour, to observe what's all around. Ikarians have always lived this way, and I think it's part of why they live so long. Often enough, too, seeing what's in season inspires dinner. (I can't help it!)🥰
🗨️Comment WALK and I'll send you the full story.
Save this for your next morning walk, and send it to the friend you'd walk with. 💛
Tell me in the comments: what is autumn telling you where you live? 👇
✔️The full story is on my Substack: https://substack.com/
And if you'd like to walk these paths with me, my autumn 2027 Ikaria retreats are now open: a week in my village, cooking from my garden and living by the season. Links in bio.🔗