DOGS THAT WALK UNDER THE ENDLESS BLUE SUMMER SKY

Sand pits and the summer sky overhead, and the dogs play with a larger group. Each finds his or her order. They like the big Shepherds, and those ones are tough but friendly. They all jostle and yell for a little while back and forth. After they run and nip at one another, - snarl somewhat, but not in the meanest of ways, - there is more merriment and playfulness. But, its soon time to rest for a long while under the shaded trees. The sun is high, the sky cloudless, wide, - no- a forever blank blue slate clean, bountiful, and beautiful. The owners talk about this or that. A little bit of a breeze makes its way through and dances the pines up and down. Walking around there some of the dogs sit for a bit in the cool sand that is shaded by a ridge. We all take it easy and walk back in the forest along the top of a deep valley. The coyotes live mostly in the valley, but they are not really around today. Maybe they are more nocturnal. Sometimes a young one or two come around to see what is going on, though they keep their distance. We make sure everybody has water and is ok. There is no need to rush, because if an animal or person takes a wrong step it’s a long fall or dangerous roll to the valley below. There are stumps, trees, rocks, and sometimes old wires, - parts of farmer’s fences. There is even an old car, riddled with bullet holes, that a fugitive left there decades ago. We go along in single file. The wildflowers are in bloom, mostly white trilliums though a very few are dashed in pink and even border on rouge. Most people are away for the holiday weekend, so it’s extra quiet. Not a jogger or bike rider or other dog walker in sight. We are a group of four persons and seven dogs. Everyone makes their way and then we are away from the valley edge and into the forest proper once more. Old Oaks, some fallen birches with mushrooms growing on them, and more dirt paths leading off here or there. All of the paths are labyrinthine, meandering, each wanting to tell a different story if one would just take it and see where it leads. If it is going to rain, it is not going to rain this day. Sooner or later, in the dusk and in the night, there will be some groups of fireflies. Sometimes then, thunder erupts or lightning announces itself in the darkened summer firmament. But not now. Now it is just the group finishing up their walk. There is the sky again as we go out, and it can’t be discerned whether or not it has a beginning or end or middle as its too vast for such mortal designations.

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