The picture above is from Halloween. It is our neighbour Amanda’s house. She set it up for the few trick-or-treaters who dared come down our way. I thought it looked pretty damn spooky.
Amanda is another good neighbour. She grew up with our kids, so Lisa and I still look at her as a kid. However, she is one strong, independent young woman. Great with her dogs, which are perfectly trained. She also gets in her own firewood, so she gets my utmost respect. Sometimes she brings back lengths of fir and uses her chainsaw to buck it up in her yard.
A few years ago, I saw her splitting an extra large, knotty block. She must have swung at it 100 times. Since I have over a hundred pounds on her, I asked if she wanted me to take a few whacks at it. She said, “Thanks, but this is personal.”
Another 10 or 20 swings, and she’d busted it. Like I said, utmost respect.
Toast and I went for a walk on the mountain in the late afternoon yesterday. A quiet Sunday, especially out there. It was darkening where we walked through the short spruce. Above us, the sun was still shining brilliantly on the fresh, snow covered peaks. A wonderful time of year.
It reminded me of when I was young. I would try to walk through the thick bush without making a noise, trying not to scuff my foot or break a twig. It was easier in the rain, with the sound of the bush hissing in a downpour. As long as you travelled below the rain and thunder, you had nothing to fear . . . or so I thought long ago.
Now I scuff and trip, stubbing my toes on rocks and roots. I’m heavy on my feet and in my skin, with the lightness of youth long gone. I like to think it’s somewhere up on those peaks, soaking in the last of the sun.
I did not give Toast one verbal command, and she did everything right, staying on my heel, stopping when I did to look at the tops of trees or listen for the birds that even seemed to have rolled in early.
By the time we returned to the truck, the sun was off the peaks, and it was getting dark for certain. Toast was quiet, slightly damp from her low stature, waiting to be picked up for her ride home.
