Gray

Amazing, how many days can be gray, the sky filled with fluffy dark clouds delivering rain, mist, or just cover. Even more amazing, said gray feels comforting and familiar. A gray day is a slower, quieter day than one filled with bright sunshine. An overcast day calls for a sweatshirt, a foamy tea latte, and of course, a walk with dogs.

For this morning's walk, Nicholai was particularly spirited. Saturday was a short, smell-the-roses kind of leash walk around home, and Sunday was an easy-going hike and lounge-around-the-back-yard kind of day. It's nice to see that the old boy's still got it. After a couple of kick-back days, he was ready to hit the road for real and he demonstrated his enthusiasm by howling over breakfast and pawing at my arm. "Let's get this show on the road!"

We tramped along a familiar trail, with one or two less familiar turns. Recent wetland improvements demand that we avoid one area to leave recovering wildlife in peace. From our vantage part a ways away, Nicholai and I watched some small critter swimming circles in the pond and splashing playfully. Who would do that, other than an otter? Seemed an odd environ for an otter, still … binoculars weren't among my accoutrements, so I couldn't tell. Nicholai observed carefully as I, his head cocked; I'm sure if we'd been closer, he would have made a much more detailed inspection.

The rivers are exceptionally high and the vicinity is very wet. Izzy tore through puddles and swamps, playing mad dashing games – mostly with herself. I enjoyed the cover of clouds, the lack of rain, the company of good dogs, and the solitude from human crowds. Nicholai frolicked a bit with Izzy, made careful olfactory inspection of areas we haven't seen – or smelled – for a while, tested all the waters (yep, still wet, still cold), and waited for his slower human on several occasions.

Still here, still crazy, still walking, after all this time.