August 13, 2010. Friday.
Situation: I have to work tonight and probably should work a little also this afternoon, so I might as well take Mway for a walk this morning. Moi has already taken her out to throw stick. She tells me that the path is wet, since it’s been raining, I guess, all night – but a wet path is, of course, no obstacle to me. I’ll go barefooted in my boots again. It’s 9:41.
State of the Path: My walking clothes are damp when I put them on. Mway is relaxing on the porch after throwing stick with Moi, and looks up at me bug-eyed, surprised to see me. But she’s soon smiling as she runs and circles the yard, heading to meet me at the path. I admit I feel a little uncomfortable in my damp clothes, and when I reach the path beyond the walled garden, the idea of walking through wet weeds seems unpleasant to me, so I start whacking at the goldenrod, briars, and giant ragweed with the “pro-quality” stick. It’s a half-assed job, but it makes me feel like I might stay a little drier than I otherwise would. Down at the grasses in bug land, I can feel my bare feet sloshing around in my boots. As I approach the creek, I think I hear a bullfrog, but after a few steps, I realize it’s my feet making a burping sound against the wet rubber of my boots. I think I hear the whine of another mosquito. Along the creek, I look at the plant that’s winding around the jewelweed and see that it’s also winding around some goldenrod that I’ve started whacking at. I wonder if the plant’s some kind of bindweed. Its little white flowers, or maybe they’re just white buds, grow all along its stringy, winding stem – and they look almost like fungus or coral.
State of the Creek: Beneath the tree stand, Mway ventures into the creek bed – I hear the clacking of rocks. Whatever rain we had last night must be soaking into the ground; it hasn’t raised the level of the creek much. The creek is still a series of disconnected pools, with muddy opaque water in them. The pool at the narrows has crept closer to the vinyl siding. I walk over to the feed channel to the skating pond and see there’s no water in it. Mway meets up with me as I’m stepping through the poison ivy beneath the “chokeberries.”
The Fetch: She runs ahead of me and is there to greet me at the clearing. I suspect she will only make one fetch, but it’s hard to tell: she prances about and looks up at me with an eager smile. I toss the stick – will she bring it back and drop it at my feet? No, she goes running toward the path along the sumacs and heads back to the house, having to adjust the stick in her mouth once or twice after it gets knocked cock-eyed by the weeds along the path.
