I’m the kind of person, a city bus pauses in front of me and snaps opens the door, I want to get on. Even if my course for the day is set, and especially if the bus is one I’ve never taken. Where’s that bus headed?

Around a corner, over the bend, I’m curious to follow the trails other animals (humans included) set. Marked and annotated, paved, tread-bare. Unfortunately, a fall season stuffed with work, personal, and social responsibilities and engagements offered few opportunities to engage in little explorations.

This December, I fell sick enough to put a temporary halt to my ordinary dashing about. Days of sleeping and alternating between watching old TV favorites on Youtube and feeling monumentally bored finally gave way to something new.

We followed the paved Mystic River Route trail along a fast roadway in Medford, discovering, at dusk, an ornate green, metal bridge leading to an old New England-style shopping district, docks on the river, and a delicate amphitheater dedicated to human rights activist and writer Lydia Maria Child.