Who scatters wool and scratches at trees?
The dogs likely know, but it’s still a mystery to me. Stepping over the fallen stone wall and into the woods, I watched as both Fate and Zinnia ran to the place where I dumped some waste wool last year (this was before I knew about Wool Pellets).
I’ve kept an eye on the wool to see how long it would remain where I put it. It held up well until today. Tufts were scattered around, Zinnia sniffing each one and Fate marking the territory by defecating in the middle of it all.
Nose to the ground they followed a trail invisible to me and soon landed at a rotting birch, still standing but losing its bark. They stayed some time smelling that tree up and down. And when they were done, they ran into our neighbors overgrown meadow.
But I wasn’t going there, it was too warm, even this morning to walk though the bushes. I imagine since yesterday the tick have come out.
As I turned and walked towards the broken maple, the dogs lost interest in the trail and followed me instead.
The rising sun through the trees lit up the mushrooms that seems to grow overnight on the maples fallen limb.
I felt the darkness inside of me lift and slowly begin to melt like the ice on the edges of the stream.
