On the way back from driving my beloved to work, I saw the pup becoming restless, on the seat next to me, where he does not quite fit-his front legs slipping out slipping out from under him , as he strives to be by my side.
I thought, "Poor young thing- no walk for 2 days. Why not? Just a small one".
And so, as we drove from the high Hadley fields into the forest of the mountain range, I dropped the car into the tiny break between guard rails alongside the forest, and snuggled the car in to park.
Elated but polite, locked on leash for a bit, until far enough away from the road, he finally was let free, and thundered across the woods in dogish delight.
I thought, "Poor young thing- no walk for 2 days. Why not? Just a small one".
And so, as we drove from the high Hadley fields into the forest of the mountain range, I dropped the car into the tiny break between guard rails alongside the forest, and snuggled the car in to park.
Elated but polite, locked on leash for a bit, until far enough away from the road, he finally was let free, and thundered across the woods in dogish delight.
The torrential rain last night, combined with the aspiring but failing tiny tornadoes, cleansed the forest, so that today I see debris here and there and everywhere.
As well as the delicate blossoming Pippsissewa, dusting the forest with their unique white momentary flowering .
Up and around and down we wandered along the mossy , little used path, until he reached the top that joined a horizontal trail, and immersed himself in the tiny stream of cold Mountain water. 
One small moment of sun , on an overcast day, appearing overhead, and then sliding down through the forest ; these shafts of brilliant light turning golden this branch, that stand of trees, this grouping of ferns lightly bobbing in the intermittent summer breeze.
And then, unfortunately, I tire, and instead of marching across the Seven Sisters range here, on toward the Appalachian Trail, across the nation, and continuing to other lands... instead we turn down the woodland trail, on our way back.
And then, unfortunately, I tire, and instead of marching across the Seven Sisters range here, on toward the Appalachian Trail, across the nation, and continuing to other lands... instead we turn down the woodland trail, on our way back.
We pass this large reclining mossed rock alongside the trail, smooth with small curves.
Whatever I gaze at this rock, no matter the season, I wonder what it has seen. Millions of years. Who has wandered by ; who has hunted - the storms on the land here, and the wild winters. So many years. Has it been pushed or rolled? Or stayed right here long before you or I were born? All the stories within the rock. Its shape inviting to any human or mountain lion or creature , to lower themselves in comfortable repose.
Heading back down the path, rounding the turns, Dante hears something alarming off in the woods - something crashing about, going about their day.
Around here, as is true with many places, this is a time of bear cubs; we all know this.
Whatever I gaze at this rock, no matter the season, I wonder what it has seen. Millions of years. Who has wandered by ; who has hunted - the storms on the land here, and the wild winters. So many years. Has it been pushed or rolled? Or stayed right here long before you or I were born? All the stories within the rock. Its shape inviting to any human or mountain lion or creature , to lower themselves in comfortable repose.
Heading back down the path, rounding the turns, Dante hears something alarming off in the woods - something crashing about, going about their day.
Around here, as is true with many places, this is a time of bear cubs; we all know this.
So of course, I look and holler some, as in "Hey over there, pain in the butt beings over here, beware!"
And then request of my shepherd that he come to me, and now.
For some reason, despite his ruff up and his leaping vertically to ascertain what is off in those woods, he has the good sense to come right over to me, and I leash him, getting us right on out of there, amidst more whooping and very loud singing , just to let them know exactly where we are.
We finally get down far enough that I let him play for a bit again on leash, dragging a 15 foot branch, which catapults itself over bumps in the path as he pulls it, seemingly alive! Leaping upon it with glee.
And then he begins drag dragging it sideways down the path once again.
I furtively look up the path, just in hopes that no large dark figure is lumbering near.
And then request of my shepherd that he come to me, and now.
For some reason, despite his ruff up and his leaping vertically to ascertain what is off in those woods, he has the good sense to come right over to me, and I leash him, getting us right on out of there, amidst more whooping and very loud singing , just to let them know exactly where we are.
We finally get down far enough that I let him play for a bit again on leash, dragging a 15 foot branch, which catapults itself over bumps in the path as he pulls it, seemingly alive! Leaping upon it with glee.
And then he begins drag dragging it sideways down the path once again.
I furtively look up the path, just in hopes that no large dark figure is lumbering near.
Yes we encroach on them; we keep building and building , and they have their traditional neighborhoods that they were brought up in, that their parents were brought up in, that are theirs. Their homelands.
And in all of our vapid human species-centric shallowness, where the only intelligence or value in life is accorded humans , with machines, who speak in the manner that we do, we remain painfully immaturely self centered when it comes to realizing that all of these creatures have homelands too. And that we happen to share.
But I don't hold my breath on this count- simply am a bit satisfied when one or two of my brethren now and then seemed to recall that this earth, or these woods, or this day - somehow ( ludicrous) underwent creation, and NOT with only humans in mind .
And in all of our vapid human species-centric shallowness, where the only intelligence or value in life is accorded humans , with machines, who speak in the manner that we do, we remain painfully immaturely self centered when it comes to realizing that all of these creatures have homelands too. And that we happen to share.
But I don't hold my breath on this count- simply am a bit satisfied when one or two of my brethren now and then seemed to recall that this earth, or these woods, or this day - somehow ( ludicrous) underwent creation, and NOT with only humans in mind .
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