Apparently, it was nearby

After mountains, monasteries, canals and an island, Pune had a reasonable question: have you tried looking around here? Mulshi was an excellent answer. Hills, water, the Sahyadris, and no need to explain the contents of a suitcase at an airport. The passport could sit this one out.

There is an amusing imbalance in my travel ambitions. I can become very interested in a place far away while postponing a perfectly good outing near home. Distance lends an idea importance before I have done anything to deserve it. Mulshi makes that habit a little difficult to defend. A road out of the city can be enough to change the day.

I have kept the stream and the sunset together here. Beside the water, the outing contracts to what is close: rock, current, a place to sit. In the evening, grass and trees catch the remaining light. I like having both in the same nearby chapter. They remind me what I mean when I say I want to get out for a while.

The useful thing about a place within reach is that a visit does not have to carry the weight of a rare opportunity. I can return. I can have an ordinary day there. If one outing gives me a stream and another an evening sky, they can accumulate slowly into familiarity. There is a kind of affection in beginning to know the country around your own city.

This chapter starts in 2024 and remains ongoing. That feels right for Mulshi and the Sahyadris: another drive can still join it, another evening can become worth remembering. I remain enthusiastic about going farther afield. I am simply trying to stop overlooking the perfectly respectable possibility of a good day and being home before dinner.