At the end of The Avenue, I turned left at the crossroads, trying to stick to a relatively level gradient (if not level ground) for my morning run. Usually, I would head straight down the hill to the large Douglas Fir at the further crossroads, or head sort of diagonally right into the trees towards the Obelisk. This time, I tuned left, running down the path with the open field to my left and the Greenwood to my right, the early sun streaming through the trees.
We’ve never really explored that side of the Greenwood, and Scapa was clearly interested. Something was occurring somewhere further in, and she paused, paw lifted to wait for a sign of life worth chasing. It only took a whistle for her to carry on, though, with an occasional inquisitive glance back.
We’ve hit a stride, running together. Scapa now recognises the hoodie I wear for running, and enjoys jogging along next to me, or round and about, patiently letting me do my best whilst amusing herself. When I stop to walk, she knows that it’s time for stick-throwing.
Maybe next weekend, weather permitting, we’ll explore those new old woods properly. Another example of our lives and memories entwining with the many guises of The Misty Solitudes.