We do ramble on...

I am wearing my decorator hat today. After a morning meeting at an antique store to scope out an art deco bar for the boss, I was off to a meeting with the masonry guy this afternoon and of course it was a good excuse to get out with the dogs after all that designing and what not. So after, the dogs and I took a tour of the work in progress in the boss's new house, and happy with the details...we set off on a walk.

A winter storm is approaching and it was a good excuse to enjoy the weather while we could.

The forest colors have definitely worked their way into the decorating project. What started out as a quick walk turned into one of those rambling walks that the dogs and I are so fond of.

With lots of ambushes and playing and happy faces.

The melting snow has revealed all the pinecones and in the midst of the winter's monotony they were as welcome as the mushrooms in fall.

The squirrels have missed few along the way.

So accompanied by the cries of the crows overhead, I meandered more than I had set out to.

I think in my old age some day I will sit and look at my forest pictures and remember every sensation: Every smell, every sight, every sound, every feeling.

And even those who spend their lives in great excitement will not have more smiles than I do.

Somewhere there are dogs sniffing fire hydrants, but my dogs are sniffing stumps in the snow! If they could reflect on such things, I wonder which they would prefer?

I don't suppose Domino thinks about it much these days. I think he is a Wisconsinite through and through.

The funny thing is Charm was actually originally picked up as a stray not far from this spot and circumstances and fate have delivered her right back. Some things just turn out the way they should.

So we do ramble on, even in thought.

The evergreen vines have melted through the snow covering. I wonder at what heat they generate to accomplish such a thing?

The stems of the larger vines crumbling and twisting like splintered tree trunks.

The overcast sky sheds pale light on everything as though light itself had become blurred.

And scenery becomes framed in the stark shapes of winter.

The dogs are boundless and blurs of color, exploring every side trail like kids yelling "look at me!" Sometimes I wonder if each day is like a totally new day and each trail a totally new trail. Does it always seem new to them?

The leaves float on ice and water alike.

We decide to climb since the trail is mostly clear and safe enough if you watch out for ice and mud. The dogs make the climb a dozen times before I reach the top.

Up above the wind slices through us like a knife. But the views are so pretty we linger for awhile.

This tree only produced this one acorn last spring and here it still is after the long cold winter.

The view from the top is stark and dark and still. The quiet is absolute.

I think I could stand this view for a few lifetimes.

All the way back the dogs played and ran and did their best to make the most of their unexpected outing. Charm was in rare form ambushing Domino from the side of the trail.

So confident were the dogs that they were ultra good the entire walk, that they waited for treats on our trek back. And again at home. I can always tell when they have a good day by the noisy dreams they have when they get home, dreaming of some great adventure in the woods no doubt. I suppose all of us have a bit more "wild" in us than some.
“A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages.” _Tennessee Williams