Barefoot on my Small Philosophers Way

Before writing I washed my dirty and dusty feet. So refreshing after this long day. After waking up early, among others things I made the Big Broomstick Round. No plant watering because some rain was expected. Deeply inhaling I brushed my way all around the house. And after that I took the footpath up into our Solling Treegarden. The path leads to Our Oaktree Hut and turning beyond that, further up into the slope where it ends on a forest road. From here you can follow numerous ways and paths all around up and down into the vast forest.
As you can see the dusty footpath to our writing hut is cleaned up a bit now. I can walk there barefoot. "When will you finally be that barefoot-philosopher, Pete?" I remember the friendly laughing voice of a canadian social philosopher calling at me. On the rocks in the Adriatic Sea in Dubrovnik. Where I sat down with some friends discussing our vision of practising outdoor philososphy, like old Epicure. That had been in the roaring Seventies.
I breathed, leaning on my broomstick, smiling. Feeling this intense happiness. Being so lucky to have found love, destination and calling here on my way to our Walden-Hut. Looking at the dust on my feet and ankles I could feel the texture of the porous sandy soil beneath. Feeling deeply in touch with this forest ground. Stretching upright, remembering all those paths and ways and tracks from which this following Footpath was given and reborn. I love all the false or deadend trails (Holzwege) in the labyrinth of my life. That has been and will be our way of desiring and going forward in process.
Now I have finally started to love, live, feel and think practically beyond my feet. What more is there for a barefoot-philosopher to wish?