Thursday, October 13, 2016


The sun filtered through the forest roof and down to the floor. It was getting to be colder, and the frost had visited for a few nights. Gone were the wildflowers save for a particular brand of purple ones and even those were only seen in a few places. It would be a while before the winter announced itself with the enthralling first snow cover. In the meantime there were these things,- the remnants of the summer,- some bushes that mistakenly made buds or else had scheduled autumn blossoms, the birds, late to migrate,- circling in the distance near the tree lines. 

Some other artifacts and atmospheres. The night was coming earlier and earlier. There was some mood or
feeling that stirred and it was not something that could be named, but had to do with old knowledge carried in the cells and memory and bones and blood,…carried it can be said, - by the soul and roused to the forefront for seconds or parts of seconds as some farmer’s fire could be smelt, wafted and brought by a distant wind to where the one walked with the canines. Sometimes they would stop and watch and smell and feel the mood of the place or parts of the place. ‘Parts,’ because though it looked like was ultimately one forest, - wide, long, lovely, even sacrosanct, it was also different here on this path than it was there on that ridge. Different nearer the valley floor where hardly any soul went to than in the open and common beginning that most all traversed. Different in certain hours, - say, than in others. Nuance and discernment were the names that came to mind.

And so the walking and the waiting continued. The dogs joyous, curious, sniffing, running, playing, being. The man watching over them, caring for them, guiding when guiding was called for, and being guided when that was in order. Through all this, the sun then filtered through the forest roof and down to the floor like a light that could wash away doubt. 


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