Returning to the trail after the romp through firs

This is bliss … to my dogs and, most of the time, to me.  The long quiet trail.  For my golden, Bauer, and boxer mutt, Amber, the trail is alive with nuances that need to checked on every day.  Leaves that were once layered, decaying on top of each other have been pushed aside; why? What animal has marked where?  Fiddlehead ferns emerge, pushing new green and new earth to eager nostrils. And then, the smells, noises, tastes and sights create hyper sensitivity, in my boxer especially, and a riotous romp ensues.  

It is a game between the two dogs.  The little one charges, then jumps away, pauses, looking over her shoulder; is Bauer giving chase?  Bauer makes Amber work for his attention.  Afterall, she has the young legs (9 mos old).  Finally he’s in pursuit.  Amber leaps, prances, flies over bushes, stones, branches.   Bauer barges, gallops, leaning away from larger obstacles, expecting to trample smaller ones.  They both return to me on the trail with their tongues lolling out of grinning mouths.

Now, the water.  Most often it’s the stream, coupled with murky bog holes; sometimes we get to the Avis trails with fresh water ponds.  Bauer plunges into the water with a whoosh, swims out then turns back, waiting anxiously for the stick to be thrown.  Amber minces along the edges, then daintily tests the water’s depth.   On a brave day she’ll venture in up to her neck.  We have yet to get her to actually swim.

And me, as I trudge steadily on the marked path, trying not to stumble over protruding stones or new fallen branches, I inhale too.   My nose is dead compared to that of my dogs, but the scent I am seeking is sublime: inspiration. I feel akin to Robert Frost, searching for The Road Not Taken. Sometimes it comes from my animals – putting human traits to their frolicking.  Sometimes I listen closely for other sounds – birds, branches rubbing together, crickets, bullfrogs, the wind.  Sometimes I find it in the shadows conjuring up haunting tales or Native American lore.  Most often it is found in clearing out.

I walk the dogs to release their energies.   I walk myself to unravel my frustrations. 

The dogs and I, on this trail, we know the way.  Yet, the bliss, the joy, is also knowing that each time we venture out, something new will be found.