Wild walks in the Welsh winter air...

There’s something quietly grounding about a lunchtime walk in January. Especially one taken on a day when the temperature refuses to climb much above zero, when the cold has a bite that sneaks through gloves and settles into your fingertips. Today was one of those days.

I wrapped myself up in the usual winter armour, scarf pulled tight, gloves on, bobble hat snug, thick winter coat zipped right up… and shorts. Always shorts. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, no exceptions. I’ve long since stopped trying to justify it.

The route itself is nothing new. A familiar 1.6-mile loop I’ve walked hundreds of times, so well worn that my feet could probably find their way around it without me thinking. And yet, despite that familiarity, I never tire of it. Not once. Every walk feels just different enough to remind me why I love it.

The path follows an old industrial railway line, once busy with purpose and noise, now reclaimed by time and nature. Where heavy wagons once rattled past, there’s only the crunch of frost underfoot and the steady rhythm of my own breathing. The rails are long gone, but the sense of history lingers — a reminder of how landscapes evolve, and how even the most functional places can become something quietly beautiful.

On days like this, the countryside feels stripped back to its essentials. Bare branches sketching lines against a pale winter sky, hedgerows stiff with frost, the muted browns and greys of January softened by the occasional stubborn splash of green. There’s a stillness to it all, broken only by birdsong or the distant hum of life carrying on somewhere beyond the fields.

What strikes me most, every single time, is just how lucky I am. Lucky to live here. Lucky to work here. Lucky to be able to step out during a lunch break and trade emails and screens for open space and cold air. It’s easy to take that for granted, especially when the walk has become routine — but moments like today have a way of cutting through that complacency.

The cold sharpens the senses. It wakes you up. By the time I loop back, cheeks numb and breath visible, I feel reset. Clearer. Grounded. Ready to head back indoors and crack on with the rest of the day.

Same route. Same cold. Same questionable choice of legwear.

And yet, I’ll love it just as much the next time I walk it.