Evening Walk

Last evening when I got home from work, I was feeling a little better, so I took Baby Dog down the hill. Neither of the dogs has gotten much exercise from me this week, and I wanted to try and give them a little more. We were down at one of the paintball fields when I saw a small flock of Canada geese circle overhead. I decided to walk over to the new pond, hoping I would see something else that I could add to my February bird list. I didn’t have any luck in that department.

The Roundtop boys are enlarging one of the paintball fields, or perhaps the last wind storm brought down some trees, but at any rate, they’d lit a bonfire of piled logs and stumps at the end of the pond. By the time Baby Dog and I arrived, after sunset but with the sky still light, the fire was all coals and ashes, more like a friendly campfire than a bonfire. I warmed my hands by the fire, and Baby Dog sniffed around warily—it was the first fire she’d ever seen, I think.

There’s something about the heat from a comfortable fire—nothing feels as warming or as pleasant. We stood around for a while, Baby Dog was getting used to the fire, I was enjoying it. I was also enjoying the unexpected pleasure of finding a friendly fire at the end of our evening woods walk. I warmed my hands and my face, remembering other fires and other winter evenings. We sat there for 10-15 minutes, until the night deepened, and I started to feel its chill on my back. It was only then that I reluctantly turned around and headed back to the cabin.