Tuesday was a rare sunny day here on the cutoff. Too nice of a day to spend all of it pent-up without giving the breeze a bit of a spin. We impulsively decided to take a short walk around 3:00. The sun was shining, the road clear, and we met in the driveway . I still find that silly and fun to say, but, we did just that. We met in the driveway. Tom, who is still nursing his foot but doing better and was anxious for a walkabout, came down from his studio in the barn and I, newly returned from some chores after a morning of paperwork, closed the door to the house securely behind me and off we went like Tigger and Pooh bounding off into the Hundred Acre Wood.
Of course, it was far too muddy and packed with snow to take the woody path, so we walked a bit up the slight incline, peeking into the woods along the way to see what there was to see. The deer, I suspect, were back at the house, taking advantage of our little foray down the road and nibbling on brush showing through in the snow, one standing guard to give a warning when “the people” came back, especially “that doe”, who raps on the windows and stomps her feet screeching “get off of my lawn”.
We walked a ways, chatting quietly, waving at neighbors driving by, noticing maple seeds frozen to branches, and we saw several deer paths etched in the snow, plain to see and worn down to the leafy earth. As we walked about in our little corner of the world, Robert Frost’s poem once again crept into my thoughts.