The Trail

It was July.

‘Hot’ is a relative term, but compared to the temps we normally experience in our clime during July, it was hot.

“Let’s go explore the trail,” I’d said.

And, taking nothing with us but our sense of adventure, off we went.

The thing about the woods – the thing most people don’t really understand – is that even though they are considered a place of peace (which translates, for many folks, to peace and quiet)… They are not quiet.

The forest is alive.

With movement, with energy.

With sound.

And it was a sound – an unexpected animal sound; a huff, a rustling, followed by a momentary unnatural stillness —

the flutter of birds’ wings ceased
cicadas silenced their singing
even the barely-there breeze held its breath

— catching us unawares – that put us on our guard.

I’d been leading.

Exploring winding pathways, navigating steep climbs over rutted footpaths, taking small steps forward with arms at ease and eyes ahead while he followed, I’d forged ahead for a mile.

We’d maneuvered obstacles – muddied terrain and brambled footholds littered with fallen trees and swarmed with insects – along the way that had been tiring but in an exhilarating way. It had been exercise without being work, which is my favorite form of fitness, and despite the heat – and the sweat sheening my bare limbs due to exerting myself ever-forward against that heat – having the potential to exhaust me, I’d found it exhilarating.

And then, on the way back…

Within a quarter mile of the trailhead and an eighth past that back to our cabin…

There was that sound.

I stopped.

Adrenaline high, heartbeat flatlining, I stopped dead in my tracks – my husband still following close behind me – and held up a hand indicating halt.

All the precautions we *hadn’t* taken – no packs, no medical supplies, no food or water, no pepper spray, no bear alarms – raced in circles through my mind.

Because what we’d heard — and the absolute silence that pervaded the wood in its wake — was an animal sound.

And, once I’d ascertained exactly what kind of animal we were facing, I realized that even though it had startled us…

…we, too, had startled it.

And that’s what happens in my marital relationship.

We explore.

We walk into places not always fully equipped for what might come and forge our way ahead.

I go first. (And, when the occasion warrants, I come first.)

He has my back.

My eyes are wide open, focused on what’s ahead. I am aware.

But despite that awareness, sometimes there are things that catch me – us – unawares.

Sometimes the ‘animals’ we encounter along life’s trails are dangerous.

And even when they’re not, they can still be scary.

But we stop. We listen, we assess.

We appreciate the moment.

And when we move on, we carry the experience forward…

…always cherishing the memories.

This post is part of my Holiday CELEBRATIONS series, with special thanks to one of my long-time readers, Chris, who asked me to equate an outdoor experience with something sex/ual.

As you can see, I’ve chosen to interpret his question _slightly_ differently. 😉

I hope he — as well as all of you — enjoyed the analogy, nonetheless. 🙂

(And NO — for those of you who are curious — the deer photo in this post was NOT taken on the day in question. It was one my hubby sent me from a much tamer trail walk he took on his own recently. It reminded us both of that hot July day in the national forest, on a much wilder trail, when we were startled by a much larger and less tame version of this baby black-tail.)