photo by Jonathan Schechter

The days of autumn splendor are fading fast. As much as I love cross-country skiing and deep winter explorations, I want more time in the woods of October before snow and ice makes planning essential before trekking into silent winter woods.

 But if I was a wide-eyed, wet-nosed, tail-wagging dog, wild with unleashed freedom to run the terrain without worries of private property and sensible acceptable behavior I could crash and splash over creeks, vault over downed logs, hurl myself from valley to colorful hilltops and howl in primeval excitement at dawn and dusk to meet my never ending need to be outdoors. 
And if my pads became sore I could hop into a car like this floppy eared guy working with the
DNR and ride without worry and just hang my head out the window, let crisp air fill my lungs  and  delicious scents of the season flood my brain.

But I am human.
Rules of society make me plan.

Today I look at maps and commitments and  I dream of my next multi day trek into the wilds. It has been too many months since I felt the comforting pressure of a backpack on my shoulders. And I miss the first smell of coffee after night winds rustled tent flaps and a crow speaks to dawn.
The sacred earth and nature's wilder side is calling me--again.
It would be so much easier to just run free with the canids, domestic and wild.