Cole and I walk Tucker everyday, and just like the postman, regardless of the weather. Our city dog refuses to relieve himself in our yard since he was trained as a pup on the streets of Washington, DC to "get busy" when he was walked in the city parks. He knows no other way despite our efforts to try when we experienced our first sub zero winter. The upside is that we have a beautiful lawn free of yellow spots and we get lots of exercise. We have walked in downpours, in pelting snow, through blustery winds and blinding heat as well as on dewy mornings, with refreshing breezes and warm sunshine. Just as Tucker gets excited at the mere mention of the word "walk" so does Cole. Both of them teach me that the same old daily walk isn't the same old daily walk at all. Each day (and walk) holds potential for experiencing new things.
We typically take one of five familiar trails. Since our winter snows melted this past spring Cole's favorite trek NOW is the one that takes us on the dirt path in the woods. Our walk begins on the asphalt footpath that winds through the trees and connects the two parks that are blinking distance from our front door.
Before the leafy foliage grew back in late May, the dirt path off the walking trail was easily found and one day on our normal loop, Cole darted off towards it pointing and saying "Go this way?" I had never taken him on the dirt path before because last fall it would have been above his skill level with roots to trip over, trees to climb over and branches to maneuver around, however six months later, I knew he was ready for the challenge. I whistled for Tucker who had continued down our normal route and he looked back at me with an expression (I swear) that said "oh boy, this should be interesting".
Cole hesitated initially as I stepped forward and said "come on, let's go". Despite the fact that he had initiated this adventure he now dropped his head taking a second thought about it. After some prodding, he cautiously forged ahead. As always I wanted to foster his independence and curiosity so I let him go at his own pace, keeping a healthy distance behind him. I could see him absorbing the difference a narrow path made of dirt felt to him as he carefully stepped along. He was wide eyed at this new perspective & I felt a thrill as he obviously was in wonderment of what was now surrounding him. He kept looking back to ensure I was within sight and I reassured him with a smile and a "I'm here". At this point, Tucker came bounding up and Cole seemed to lose some of his inhibitions. He followed Tucker who was more than glad to act as the lead, checking back occasionally with a wag of his tail as if to say "follow me kid, the woods are great".
We winded our way past the huge walnut trees still stark and bare (remember this was late April). Twigs and fallen branches snapped under our weight. As Cole got comfortable, he got excited at finding rocks, rotting trees and he kept pointing at the birds who had come back a wee early but were chirping loudly at our invasion into their woods. Ice clung to some of the lower spots and as any boy would do, he ran to step on them to hear the crunch under his feet. When Tucker would get too far ahead, he would yell "Ucker Come" in the same firm voice he has heard me use to get our canine's attention.
The trail works its way back to the paved road not far from the open fields. As he touched the macadam, he yelled "I did it" with such a beaming smile on his face, that it brought tears to my eyes. He was so proud and cognizant that he had done something new!
It is now near impossible, unless I avoid this area altogether, to get Cole to take anything but the wooded path. He now cruises along, running most of the time, tripping occasionally in his haste to reach the mid point which is the biggest walnut tree of all, in a V-shape that he hides behind waiting to "scare" me as I catch up. The ferns and bushes have grown way above his waist now and though the trail is apparent it isn't used often enough to not have quite a bit of new growth to meander through. It doesn't seem to faze him that cobwebs tangle in his hair, I see him paw at his face haphazardly and I know this because I feel their silky strands brush my skin. Inch worms dangle from the trees and drop onto us (he does get a little freaked out about this) but I take the time to hold them in my hand and let him watch them inch about. We carefully put them in the grass and move on.
He stops to look at the wild "urple" flowers and wild berries. He stops cold when he hears the squirrels, chipmunks, and bunnies scurry away from his pounding feet, looks at me and says "what that?" Tucker darts into the thick of the woods sometimes and Cole gets concerned when he can't see him and then says "YEAH" when he returns back with leafy remnants stuck to his wet nose. The sunlight filters through the towering trees creating streaming rays, other places remain in the dark shadows. You can feel the pockets of warm dense air penetrated by a rush of cool damp air. So many sensory stimuli that I am reminded of as I slow down and watch my son experience the magic of mother nature.
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