All too accustomed to a plush office chair in front of a laptop computer, my body now awakens to the invigorating hike along the rocky shores around Rock Island. All those active summer nights of my young adulthood come to memory in my mind and muscles with each clumsy step from limestone to limestone. The sun follows the lake breeze, combing through my campfire hair.
My husband, ahead of me, looks so comfortably handsome in this environment, like Robert Redford in Out of Africa. Close to his heals our spotted boxer trots along like a skipper, dutifully following her captain.
I look to my side, towards the water-carved cliffs. Old gnarly cedars continue their masochistic relationship with the rock, holding one ledge, yet splitting apart another massive structure, pushing and pulling with red roots.
When the beach disappears, the water restricts us to climb the ringed cliffs, traversing to the next shoreline. My Bouvier, Baloo, leads the way with an unusually graceful combination of determination and delight. If his big paws find no footing, he plunges into the frigid water and gleefully paddles his way to the shore ahead and waits for us with his chin-dripping smile.
This hunk of a canine, in his everyday life, prefers napping on the couch to walking. Many a walk Baloo would lock his paws to the trail and look at me with his teddy bear eyes, then nod in the direction back home.
Even though I am watching my once strong body melt muscle in my new corporate job, I still think I could out climb, out hike, my overweight, barrel-chested dog. Yet this experience catches me wondering...As my husband and I find a little cave to nestle into for a midday snack, and to catch our breath, we both look at Baloo in amazement.
Our muscles start to whine a little at this new exertion while Baloo simply sits on a cool slab and surveys our next leg of the trail. He emanates a Zen balance of patience and excitement. Even though he looks out to the horizon, we feel his love radiate in warm rings of gratitude and praise.
I inhale the cool cedar air and remind myself that this simple moment must repeat itself in the near future.
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Comments: 24
I enjoyed this a lot from Baloo's perspective. He probably sees you as a Bander-log who has lost her connection to the Jungle, while your husband is a Bagheera striding along. :-)
Thanks for the Jungle book references!
:)
I know this is not my best work, but I felt so good writing at least SOMETHING again!
I know you have to write a lot of crap before you write anything good, and not that I should post all my crap, but I should not hold back from writing any longer. It has been way too long!
Will be looking for more from your end of Gather in the near future ...so, git!
1. I think you want "heels" instead of "heals"
2. Skipper and captain are synonyms - it sounds cool but I think you're going for more of a leader-follower metaphor. Simile? Metaphor? I suck at this.
3. I think your brother is right about sexual perversions: You might want "sadistic" cedars instead of "masochistic." The second sounds cooler but the first inflicts damage on something/one else (cedar to rocks). And, it's not bad alliteration. I guess "sado-masochistic" is enjoying inflicted pain along with enjoying being in pain, or whatever.
Great criticism! THANKS!!! I mean it, I need more of this!
Good visual. I see it.
"Old gnarly cedars continue their masochistic relationship with the rock, holding one ledge, yet splitting apart another massive structure, pushing and pulling with red roots. "
You are a master at showing and not telling. A rare commodity.
"If his big paws find no footing, he plunges into the frigid water and gleefully paddles his way to the shore ahead and waits for us with his chin-dripping smile."
Too cute. And so well-told.
You also use smell well - campfire hair, and of course the cedar air.
Nice photo essay of a your day hiking.
I am certain I could have used "arms" or "legs" instead in some places and it would have worked better. Right?
I am still fuzzy with praise. Thank you so much!
In Wyoming trees grow masochistically on cliffs etc; they may crack the rocks, but they were suckers for punishment to sprout there in the first place.
"...the water restricts us to climb..." -- because we have to climb or we'll get wet? You may want to say this more naturalistically.
"...unusually graceful combination..." -- eventually it becomes clear, I think, that you mean it's unusual or unexpected for your dog; here it seems kind of an empty pump-up word, if you know what I mean.
So who is this brother of yours who claims to be John Beck? Okay, I'll follow the link.
So here is a few things I notice on reread. Limestone to Limestone sounds like you are rock-hopping, but isn't limestone mostly in large sheets of continuous rock?
In the first italicized P about Baloo, you mention walking and then walk immediately in the next sentence. You could reword here for a cleaner feeling, e.g. "Many a trip has found Baloo locking his paws to the trail...etc."
Even though I am watching my once strong body melt muscle in my new corporate job
This makes it sound like your body is melting the muscle; it isn't - the inactivity of your job is the culprit.
I might consider the last line as well. You leave it to the moment to repeat itself. Is that the sense you want here? I would consider owning the love for this and making it something for you to make happen.
Man, I feel like I am being really picky!
I NEED picky critics!
Thanks, Tom.