Walking Company

It was a cold winter's day this morning on my walk to the back forty, the wind was blowing and tiny flakes were dancing between creaking boughs, and rustling grass. I decided to spend the majority of time under the cover of the trees because the wind wasn't making it pleasant to be out in the open, so I strolled around, through, back, forth, up and down on my property.  Leaves crunched under my feet filling the air with that tangy, slightly moldy smell which I associate with autumn.  Me and the dog managed to scare up four partridge which had been hanging out together in a small scrub.  Happily I didn't have my usual heart attack when they leapt into the air right beside me, perhaps I am starting to get inured to the jumpy beasties. 

My walk was chilly and pleasant, and to be honest a tad bit odd, the whole time I was wandering around following all the trails and roads it almost felt as if my mom was there.  Which is extremely strange for several reasons, to begin with she just passed away in August, so it is highly unlikely that she would be skulking around in the trees, especially because she has been cremated.  And second, even if one would buy into the whole spirits hanging around thing, I know for a fact that my mom has never been in the back forty.  She always talked about wanting to come back and see it because of the way I would wax poetic about my land, but she never got around to it.  And third, she was a teeny, tiny little thing and even had she been in the best of health wouldn't have ever been able to keep up with my somewhat large, moose-like strides.  Plus she is still sitting in my closet in a small box waiting for the day I set her free floating over a mountain in the Rockies. 

But nevertheless she was very much on my mind during my walk this morning.  And if she is hanging out and haunting me for once she did not tell me to remember my hat, change my pants, pull up my sock, or brush my hair before heading out the door.  The afterlife must be mellowing her out.