End of the walk

After I played in nature’s moss garden for a while, I headed further along the stream and deeper up the valley. Baby Dog liked this part of our walk much better. She never did figure out what I found so interesting about that moss. Sniffing every leaf on the ground was more her style. Although she doesn’t look like one, that girl seems to think she is a bloodhound.

When I first started my walk on Sunday, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk through the entire valley. Since the ground isn’t frozen, I was afraid it might be muddy and sloppy, as it often is after spring rains, but the mud remained at a level that wasn’t unpleasant for me or for a dog who doesn’t like to get her toes wet, let alone muddy.
The woods are still quiet, winter quiet. Every now and then I’d hear the pileated woodpeckers fussing and arguing in the distance. A red-tailed hawk screamed overhead. The jays were occasionally intrigued by our passing. Those sounds were occasional. Mostly it was quiet, and our footfalls made more noise than I heard throughout the forest.

Baby Dog enjoys this walk, a change from our daily morning routine. It’s too dark and too far to walk this route during the mornings. Soon, too soon on such a beautiful day, we have walked the length of the valley and have reached the point where I must turn back up the mountain and return to the cabin. Our late winter walk has come to an end.