“Hiiiii……...,” was a rich exhale with a dash of sound.
Henny and I had just crested the meanest hill on the Ice Age Trail stretch we were walking—a bold choice of location on a day where temps were a few degrees above freezing. We wanted hills and length.
“We’re trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep going,” said the man. He was tethered to a yellow barrel frame with four legs and a head. He looked at a map.
His blonde companion looked out over the kettle.
“Can they meet?” man asked about the fourlegs.
“Sure, she’s friendly…and a little wild,” I said.
(De Mello says when you change yourself, those around you change. I wonder if Henny would settle if I stopped calling—and thinking of her—as wild? Hmmm….I kind of like her wild.)
“If you keep going, you’ll run into a barn...perhaps a 1/4 mile? That’s the spot where I usually turn around…my habit.”
What I did not tell the trio was that they’d climb and descend another big hill before the barn appeared…and that the trips down the narrow, leaf strewn, melty snow and ice spotted mud is more treacherous than the climbs.
Best to let them experience for themselves…
and draw their own conclusions.
"What I did not tell the trio......." You're bad to the bone!
...yellow barrel frame? ...kettle? It’s a slow Sunday morning here, including my brain!