When I moved to the UK 12 years ago, I found my British family’s obsession with walks charming and odd. They walked in the rain, when the sun came out, on Christmas, after lunch, when friends came by. At first our New York City-born kids found it hard—they insisted on wearing their princess dresses with their wellies, and whinged at the weather or the terrain or the length. But soon it became a habit, and now I think it is a comfort. Neither a health fad nor an adrenaline rush, it is a simple, pure and enduring pleasure.