I live without a human partner in a little house set in a small rural community. I see glimpses of neighbors. We keep to ourselves all spending many hours away from our dwellings earning the money to be able to pay for them. My daughter lives here also but at the dawn of 21, with college, work, and friends, she reminds me of the milkman. One never sees him but you know he has come because there is a bottle of milk on the stoop.
I cherish the time I am able to spend in my home with my furry companions. Solitude has brought wisdom, but there is the fond but distant memory of romance, and there are some moments I would prefer to spend with a human companion.
I do have friends. One in particular lives in Florida. We speak almost daily. We discuss our children, the weather, and our day to day experiences. We laugh, and sometimes watch Jeopardy over the phone together. It’s a good friendship but we are separated by distance and a preference of climate.
I have local friends, which I have invited to go on the hikes that I take with the dogs. So far no one has wanted to share the adventure. The feeling of well worn hiking boots, the challenge of steep inclines and the uncertainty of step that loose ancient glacial rocks afford is not for everyone.
So we have become a team of three, Boomie, Bella and I, an unsteady biped flanked by yin and yang, beauty, grace and sinew. We travel the mountain paths of the Poconos where the magnificence is unsurpassed. As we walk, the dogs alert me to deer, turkey, fox, and even sometimes bear. They love the adventure and I enjoy the exploration. Through these explorations I have gained a much greater appreciation of mother earth and something else unexpected has happened.
I have come to care deeply for this mountain where we hike. He stands tall and strong. He welcomes me with open arms never rejecting my canine chaperones with their shedding coats and drooling lips. I tell him my secrets and he listens without judgment. He accepts me as I am regaled in torn flannel shirts and broken hiking boots. He lets me explore every inch of him without protest where I find something new and wonderful each day. He showers me with sensual pleasures.
In the spring he brings the sweet smelling blossoms of tuberoses and wildflowers, glimpses of baby birds and mother does heavy with fawn. Days pass and the blooms give way to sweet berries and tiny spotted fawns appear scurrying behind
watchful does. The lemon lime greens of spring deepen into shades of forest greens. Iridescent dragonflies and lazy butterflies follow us on the trails. We walk slower as the heat rises stopping often to take in the fragrance of the humid summer woods.
Soon the days shorten. The sunlight and sky take on a sharp precise clarity only autumn can bring. The leaves burst forth in abundant color. Jewels against the azure sky in a last ditch effort to announce their brilliance before they float down to earth. Chipmunks and squirrels scuttle back and forth, cheeks bursting with nuts and seeds. Canadian geese fly southward in formation overhead breaking the silence with their call, leaving this team of 3 on the mountain trail amid the falling leaves. We sit on rocky outcroppings and watch the geese fade into the distance while I contemplate this mountain and his beauty.
Romance had become a fond and distant memory until now, for I have fallen in love with this mountain. He reigns in my heart. When the snow starts to fall, the wind bites too hard and the trails encrust with ice, I will be forced to stay away. The team of 3 will sit by the fire listening to the howling north wind. In the deep cold night I will dream of him and count the days until spring.
