Yesterday wasn't a hunting day so I walked my 4 miles on FR181/American Springs Road. Such a beautiful, lonely road! I didn't see a soul other than the two vehicles that drove in just as I neared the end of my walk but then almost immediately turned around and drove back out.
The wind consorted with the tree tops, creating a song of lonely longing. The day was sunny and cool but by layering 3 long-sleeved shirts, I was comfortable. I only needed my windbreaker when I was almost back at the car. Where the road dips down into Water Canyon, I saw thin traces of snow in the shade.
Deer and elk tracks speckled the dirt. The tracks look like Valentine hearts, albeit broken by a cloven line that rifts through the center. Tiny birds hopped two by two in dry grass stalks alongside the road. Wild rose bushes, with russet leaves, were festooned with red rose hips that looked like tiny Christmas ornaments.
Someone had, here and there, cut down young, skinny aspens from alongside the road. They had let them fall so the upper branches stuck out like trip-wires along the edge of the road. I didn't notice this hazard until one caught onto my wool sock and wouldn't let me go until I went pitching forward, landing on my left hip and knee. My sock was torn and my knee was scraped but I picked myself up and kept walking. After that happened, though, I tossed the trees back from the road wherever I could.