I don’t usually write posts that are classic Personal “hey look what I did today though I can’t imagine why you would give a crap” Blog style- but I’m making a exception to document in my digital diary the walk that Mike, Gordon and I traverse just about every day. This way, when I’m old, I can read it on my eyelid screens and think about the crazy things I used to do when I was younger, like “walk” and “hear.”
Ahhh… we start our walk by awaking to another beautiful day and having the same conversation we have every morning:
Mike: “Should we walk?”
Me: “Hell no.”
Gordon the Labradoodle: “What?? Did someone say WALK??! HOLYHELLYESYESYESYESYESWALKWALKWALKWALK!!!!!!!”
Mike: “Should we get it over with?”
Me: *sigh* “Yeah…”
Mike: “This SUCKS.”
We go over one of the bridges, guarded by the local Demonic Bridge Troll, who asks us a riddle. If we get it right, we can cross. Today’s riddle:
Demonic Bridge Troll (DBT): “Who loves WALKS??!!! WHOO!!! WHOO!!!”
Me: Um, you?
It’s always the same riddle. We always get it right.
This trail would be a lot faster if I could bike it instead of walk it. Now where did I put my bike…?
Worst Christmas Tree Decoration EVER.
This is what we like to call “Abandoned-old-car-in-the-middle-of-the-woods-whaaa??” Somewhere, there are some old men with a REALLY good drunk driving story from 1963, when it was not only legal, but encouraged, much like slapping your secretary’s ass to show her your appreciation for a job well done. Which, incidentally, can also get you killed.
In addition to riddles, we are faced with other choices on a daily basis. If you’re like me, you’ll take a shot in the behind and possible exposure to tuberculosis over going back to high school any day.
We first met this pile of bones as an actual dead deer at the bottom of a small ravine. She’s lost a lot of weight for NYC Fashion Week since then.
It was rutting season when we first spotted her carcass. She was probably running away from a would-be rapist and fell and broke her leg. That chick was DETERMINED to remain Kid-Free. Death before Bambi. Rest in peace my little soldier.
Sometimes we run across a woman we call “The Walker” (not to be confused with Walker Texas Ranger) and her two dogs, one of which humiliates our poor beta dog with aggressive posturing until I get embarrassed for him and stand between them and pretend I just happened to be there.
I’ve made a mental note that if I am ever magically turned into a gnome, raccoon or other small woodland creature, I should claim this hidey-hole as my home. It is charming and waterfront. Hopefully, I will be an otter or beaver because there does seem to be some flooding issues.
Creepy lean-to that appeared along the trail one day. No idea why. Feel it is probably somehow related to the car, but don’t know how.
This is pretty in the summer. Now it is just a frozen tundra, but it broke up the “brown” theme of these pictures in case you were starting to feel like killing yourself.
This is where we have spotted men cutting wood in the public forest. We suspect this is illegal, but pretend we don’t see them so that we are not brutally murdered or asked to squeal like a pig.
Some one has been piling little cairn rock formations lately. Very Blair-Witchy. More on that later. Or we’ll just go missing, victims of a centuries old witch’s curse. One of those.
And finally, I am crushed by a falling tree, hence released from every having to walk this brutal, steep forest trail again. Hooray Crushing Tree!
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