Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
At the split--``two roads diverged in a yellow wood''--where the meathead and I have to decide on the regular ramble or the extended one, the meathead gave me the eye when I pulled him right toward the regular one.
OK, apologies to the late Robert Frost for borrowing his opening line from ``The Road not Taken.'' But thousands of others have borrowed from the wonderfully simple but intricate poem.
Frankly, my decision was more like picking a faint path or a gravel road that diverged by bare trees. We are in November.
I chose the shorter route because I was running late with writing and finally looked up, only to realize the sun was nearly up before we got out the door.
So I rushed--yes, I stepped lively--into the morning ramble with the meathead. He was ready to go. Actually, his head was on my leg some time before I finally got the message to get out the door.
Dog owners know the routine when dogs know their routines.
The rushing reminded me that as much as the physical need for exercise I do the morning ramble for my mental health. And rushing is no way to settle into calming ramble and my daily reconnection to the natural world.
You know, get centered.
Sheez, I sound like that poser Phil Jackson on Zen. (It is a long story what gripe I have with Jackson. Maybe another day.)
At any rate, I forced myself to relax and relish the morning by the time we reached the town pond. Four Canada geese floated quietly and warily in a corner of the south old clay pit. They should be wary, it is hunting season.
Back in town, Stumpy ran off as we came back up the porch. Stumpy is one of the black squirrels in the neighborhood. The kids named him Stumpy because his tail is ratty and stumpy.
The sun was already up.
Time change comes this weekend. Might actually see some light on the morning rambles, other than just when I am running late.
Again, a good frost. We have had enough heavy frosts and freezes that my wife's flowers are dead and browing.
Time for them to go to the compost pile, one more causality of the fall.