We went to the
big place, the 64 hectare fields, but the lot was full of cars, - maybe almost
twenty vehicles.-so I booked it outta there and circled back to the smaller
forest that has a wide field at the end. There was nobody there really, save
for one guy and his dog finishing up. Well, the place was ours. The sun was
beginning to go down, but there was still time and the temperature had lessoned
a few degrees. Shaded areas were plentiful and man those mosquitoes though,- so
I had forgotten my cap and also my tuk, but I wrapped one of my shirts around
my head,- like an eccentric- and off we went. It’s magical how a bird flutters
up the way and then dives out of sight. Sometimes I think I hear something else,
- but it turns out not to be a coyote or deer or something, but rather just a
squirrel in a tree. I saw a white butterfly and he seemed to follow me for a
while and then lost himself quite intentionally in some wild raspberry bushes.
The flowers that bloomed so bright and confidently in spring and then stayed
for what I guess could be called the first half of summer, are now wilted,
dying or dead, and there are other odd feral plants and things that grow. It
was still hot, but not oppressively so, - and the dogs seemed to like the run
and play, the jostle and sniffing, exploring. One great run was had along the
top and down the sand pit, - round and round, then across. But then it was time
to head back, - the sun continuing to make its descent. Inside the forest they
seemed to run after something- but I let them go- more energy out I figure, and
fun,- but then when a few long minutes went past I snapped my fingers, made a
certain unique clicking sound I do with my mouth,- and even clapped and called
their names. The sister came first, as is the case nine out of ten times. “Where
is your bother?” I asked, and she looked at me and then looked back in the
direction from whence she had run from. Then he came running up, and all was
well enough. We went out from there, and left the bugs and slugs. I jumped up
on a log for some reason and Jesus if the thing didn’t start rolling. It was
huge, and seemed quite stationary, - so I kicked my feet back and maintained
balance and then jumped off. If I had fallen, or fallen and hit my head, - it
could have been bad. I find, all these years later, - that playing hockey
nearly every day for ten or fifteen years, - learning how to fall, how to hit
and get hit, how to balance, move, duck, roll, jump, stretch- has stayed with
me when I need it- perhaps as rote learning for the body, or else cellular
memory as they call it, - or a combination of those and something else. Soon we
were out, - and nobody was around. I decided to take the back roads, slow, -
past farms and fields, horses and birds, trees and long driveways framed by
more trees. This way and that, - air, calm, water, and some music. Why not? - It’s
a good way. A person could do worse than walk some beautiful dogs in nature for
a while.
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