Suspended

The cold hit me off guard and it has been difficult to break away from a toasty fire in the wood stove to venture out. But after watching Domino charging through the house, hopping like a kangaroo and bounding over the backs of couches, in a pretty good impression of a cross between a tasmanian devil and a tornado, I did manage to bundle up for a walk.

There's something awe-inspiring when a pitbull decides to hunker down for a full speed dash on hardwood. No husky faced with the feat of breaking loose an ice bound sled could ever match the determined momentum of Domino gaining traction.

Pitbulls are not large in stature, outranked by the average black lab, but they have that indestructible quality that every pitbull owner comes to take for granted. Many a times I have watched Domino scramble up a sheer rock face, holding my breath as he scrambles for a toe hold.

Today the temperatures dipped into the 30s and the wind was harsh coming from the north, but Domino plunged right into the water, bounding up a sheer bank and off again.

Everything in the forest seemed very delicate today. Huge pale green leaves, some ten inches or so littered the trail.

And everything hung in suspension.

The woodpeckers have returned to the forest in force, their knock knocking everywhere along the trail.

Domino dashes through the underbrush, oblivious to the thorns while Charm ranges ahead. I miss little Ripley walking by my side, patiently stopping to wait while I snap pictures. I thought she would so like the bitter temperatures, she always did. You don't realize how much you will miss them until they're gone.

Domino and Charm race each other up and down the trail plotting ambushes along the way.
I have been conditioned to step aside at the sound of jingling collars coming up the trail like express trains.

The trees are mostly bare in the forest now and everywhere form dark silhouettes.

I thought I heard some woodducks on the lake but I could not spot them.

We skipped our usual stop at the lake and continued on the climb up and around.

The wind has wiped the trail bare of leaves for the most part.

Fallen branches are everywhere, but I do not stop to pick them up anymore.

The tree roots that cross the trail form natural steps up the steepest parts, the soil packed hard like concrete.

This time of year there is not much to shoot as most of the colors have gone and changes come slower.

Even the endless varieties of ants have finished up their harvest and disappeared.

The only signs of life through the forest are the dogs merrily exploring.

Domino doing quick circuits through the trees and appearing unexpectedly in the clearings.

We all pause a minute to watch the sun setting in the distance before heading back.

Detouring to throw the trout a bucket of food and to load up some more firewood.

Charm and Domino are collected and we head home where the fire has become embers which are soon roaring again, while outside frost covers everything with the first layer of winter.