I have stopped running through the woods anymore. My knee has suddenly grown old and tired and refuses to put up with that kind of behavior. Now, me and the dog, we march. Quick-step, arms flying forward and back (except when my companion stops to pee or poop or sniff something, which is pretty often, and then my leash hand stays behind me and doesn't resume the fro-ing until Miss Daisy catches up again), striding forward through tall grass (don't they mow here anymore?) and muddy bogs, I look ridiculous I think. This kind of walking looks out of place here, I am sure. This poor turkey gaped at me for a full minute and a half before turning and quickly striding off into the woods, exactly as though he was afraid to be associated with such an odd person.
But the wildflowers didn't mind at all.
Nor did the crooked tree.
The dew ignored me.
And this baby toad just hoped I wouldn't step on him. So I didn't and took a picture instead.
