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                                                                A Walk Before Dusk

 Linda and I walk down our dirt road most afternoons just before dusk here at Big Creek. Today it was threatening to rain, or sleet, or snow but we walked anyway. We have done this for 40 years as of this fall. It is hard to believe that much time has passed since we bought this place. We walked this road before we owned our first house in Jonesboro, before we had children and before all the aunts, uncles, grandparents and most of the generation of relatives my parent’s age died. I still miss them. We walked this road when we were very young, when we were strong and vigorous. We walked this road when we still held hands and walked, hip to hip. We heard somewhere that walking a mile a day would improve your disposition, circulation, and general overall health. I believe it has even though you hear all the time about marathon runners and exercise enthusiasts dropping dead while plying their craft. Still we walk.

 The section of Big Creek Road we walk is right at three fourths of a mile each way, an easy walk through poplar, hemlocks, birch and innumerable other trees, all of whom are still fast asleep here in March, dormant with grey lichen covered bark beckoning through the sleeping forest. We are still walking it most every day, for a total of one and a half miles. This time of year the tiny buds on the trees and shrubs are just beginning to puff and swell with the stored energy of last year’s rain and nutrients. You can detect a pale shade of green in the depth of the pubescent buds if you look very closely, or maybe that is just my imagination. The section of road we walk follows the luminous creek near enough that you can throw a rock at any point and it will land in the water, depending on how well you throw. When we started walking this road it was common to see rainbow trout darting around in the creek between rocks and downed branches but not so much anymore. Sometimes we walk it in the fog of early mornings when the king fishers making their raspy cry are soaring just above the creek flashing in and out between the low hanging branches looking for the unsuspecting fish for breakfast. Our children learned to walk on Big Creek Road when they were toddlers, small bundles of joy that thrilled us with each new accomplishment. They walked this road as boys and young men, with friends that came up for the weekends. They walked this road holding hands with beautiful young girls from high school and college that also came to visit. The smell of honey from a wild bee hive hidden in the dark cavity of a half rotten tree always made our mouths water with pavlovian regularity as we walked past a certain spot, a gentle curve in the road.

 We raised many dogs on this road where they learned to walk with us and run on the dirt and rocks of Big Creek Road, dancing and splashing in and out of the adjacent creek where they also learned to swim. They raced up and down the mountain sides, crashing their way through the stream racing each other and chasing feral cats and squirrels with great enthusiasm. They were little balls of fur, clumsy, spotted, downy, some with crystal blue eyes, most with big feet and all with infectious enthusiasm and early on that incredible puppy breath that made you love them so much. We walked on this road when they grew old and their bodies quit efficiently working and they limped from exhausted hips and hobbled walking, sometimes with great difficulty and often with our assistance. Today on our walk we thought we heard a car or truck coming, a rumbling and grinding. We immediately started gathering the dogs in order to protect and control them and keep them safe from the passing traffic but there was no vehicle, no airplanes, nothing. The dogs often go berserk when a vehicle approaches and their lives are in jeopardy at times but that's a relatively small price to pay for freedom! Maybe the sound was an airplane going over we thought, but no. It was most likely a large moss covered bolder in the deeper parts of the creek rolling over from the insistent repetitive push of the water making a small muffled submerged groan as it rearranged the adjacent rocks. It was a tiny aquatic upheaval!

 Today no cars passed on our mile and a half walk. Can you believe that in this day and age? There is still someplace in the world where you can walk a mile and a half and see no one and pass no cars and have no cars pass you? The only traffic in sight on the road was two senior citizens and three excited dogs.

                                                                                                 tbd