“We’d been walking for a couple hours, & the topic was hotly turning to wind turbines. Digging into it, I was hearing about the return on investment ratios, of contracting with the state of Vermont to sell back wind power to the grid, vs. normal investments in the NASDAQ, S&P 500 and Dow Jones. Suddenly we realized Maple was missing. Keeping track of four dogs: not so easy, despite the fact that one, the naughty one, was on a leash. Maple was a city dog, on vacation in Vermont. Footloose, fancy free, blithely taking in the scenery & scents, pretty much on her own personal high but now - suddenly missing. Close to home again, the logical thing to do was to put the other three dogs in their pen, then take out the Kubota, & turn back. Oh, Maple. Being on vacation and off your guard can be dangerous. No matter how nice and agreeable and charming you may be, the reality of getting lost is real. The Kubota stuttered into action, and as it warmed up, we doubled down on hats and gloves. Still surprising after all these years, how fast sundown comes in early December. We’d remarked earlier, how much it felt like spring. Not so much now, at 4 pm. I’ve had to embrace the dark times, that always come after some colossal misunderstanding. Be it a strangely altered loved one confessing to crimes, or an innocent angel backing out of our shared truth, this is what it means to be human. We must watch and bear witness as those closest to us question, reject and ultimately, deny us. The woods walk felt good on my legs, as we navigated downed trees, water bars and slippery dams. Startled by ravens, confronted by snow on the northern sloping logging roads, unsettled by graves still hidden in forgotten acres of woods on endless tracts of state land - merely showing up still fills in a hole. Into that gap between where we think we are and where we actually fit. Where Maple went and how she scared us and then how she redeemed us, materializing out of the gloaming, tail wagging, smiling without any self conscious sense of having been “bad”. Safely home, she returned to her tribe in the pen but somehow emboldened our conviction to go for a twilight drive. We set out on chains into the woods then, determined to lurch up and down, like rebels without a cause on trails barely passable. A visit to the old dug well, the property lines in dispute, the home where the famous author lived until she sold to neighbors that came to disappoint. These grace periods come and go. Let us embrace each other, without judgment, regardless, as we all take turns.”
