It felt good to be in the woods this morning. For most of the summer, we leave it to the ticks and chiggers, and content ourselves with being somewhat civilized, taking morning walks in the neighborhood. But coming back to the familiar trail in the woods was like slipping into a favorite flannel shirt, soft and comfortable. The fragrance of wild mint greeted us as we set out, strong underfoot. Don cleared a fallen tree from the path, and cedar incense filled the air. We walked through wild oats, grown up in the path, those wind chimes of the woods, and sneeze weed (aptly named) that clustered along the way like bright spots of sunshine. Barley tagged along until it was clear that we were headed home, then, like an arrow released from the bow, he shot for home, where he waited for our return.
And life is good.