Last weekend I took Thistle for a walk in the woods. Our next door neighbor has 40 acres, much of it on the mountain that rises behind our house, and we are welcome to ramble there. The next neighbor beyond that property also has a chunk of land that we walk on. It’s lovely to have generous neighbors.
So last Sunday, I determined to find a way to connect the two properties. Thistle and I mostly walk on old logging roads that crisscross the mountain. We followed the road behind our neighbor’s house to an old rock quarry (spectacular!) and then beyond. I just knew there had to be a way to connect that road to the one on the land beyond it that we walked almost every day.
We came to the top of the ridge where the road we were on petered out. A small ravine, a fold in the mountain, lay just beyond us. I felt certain that the trail I wanted lay beyond the trickle of water I could see below. We found a sloping hillside. We found a small waterfall playing a wintry tune. And THERE was a trail. I wasn’t sure it was the right one until we came to the forks where the tree with the huge gnarled spot stood. Then we circled back and went home, sure of our path.
I LOVE adventures like these. Whether I’m hiking, writing or just living my life. I know where I want to go and I have a general idea of what path to take. But sometimes I have to just head off into a ravine or over a knoll, trusting that it will come out where I expect it to. Maybe not exactly, but close enough.