From our house to Sanborn Drive is one mile. Lately we've been taking the dogs that far on our pre-dawn walk. Usually we only go as far as the Homestead Woodworking School or the Mitchell fields on Bald Hill Road--about 1/2 mile one-way. We've extended the walk, in part because we need more exercise as do Kodi and Henna, and because the fields where we sometimes roam are deep with snow, so we stay on the road and walk farther.
We try to leave the house early, by 5:30 am, before the commuter traffic starts to build on Bald Hill Road, not that it ever gets too busy. But we like the road to ourselves, to gaze at the stars and planets, or note the animal tracks that crossed the road during the night, or watch the eastern horizon change colors just before sunrise.
Sometimes we chat as we walk, other times we each get lost in our own thoughts. The early morning darkness feels different to me than the black of night. Pre-dawn is usually quiet (except for the somewhat annoying dogs that bark from their yards, constrained by invisible fences) and peaceful, with a new day emerging just over the horizon. It marks the beginning of a day, when I am feeling fresh and energetic and full of ideas. By nightfall, like the flocks of turkeys that visit our yard, I am ready to fly up into my roost for the night.
Kodi especially is attached to this stretch of road that we walk from home. Whenever we are away for more than a day, the first thing he wants to do is go for a walk down Bald Hill Road. He checks for new smells, notes any new visual cues, marks each mailbox and snowbank, and returns home satisfied that he has successfully perambulated his territory.
We try to leave the house early, by 5:30 am, before the commuter traffic starts to build on Bald Hill Road, not that it ever gets too busy. But we like the road to ourselves, to gaze at the stars and planets, or note the animal tracks that crossed the road during the night, or watch the eastern horizon change colors just before sunrise.
Sometimes we chat as we walk, other times we each get lost in our own thoughts. The early morning darkness feels different to me than the black of night. Pre-dawn is usually quiet (except for the somewhat annoying dogs that bark from their yards, constrained by invisible fences) and peaceful, with a new day emerging just over the horizon. It marks the beginning of a day, when I am feeling fresh and energetic and full of ideas. By nightfall, like the flocks of turkeys that visit our yard, I am ready to fly up into my roost for the night.
Kodi especially is attached to this stretch of road that we walk from home. Whenever we are away for more than a day, the first thing he wants to do is go for a walk down Bald Hill Road. He checks for new smells, notes any new visual cues, marks each mailbox and snowbank, and returns home satisfied that he has successfully perambulated his territory.
A mid-morning view from Bald Hill Road, on the way to Sanborn Drive
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