I usually walk late in the day when it’s cool out. When everything is golden and light blue. The horse trails behind my home are so , so quiet then. The horse ladies are all back at the stables grooming their beloveds, and there are usually no other hikers on the trail that late except for George. George use to walk with his wife and crazy dog late everyday. George is about 80, his wife started having problems walking the trail, it wasn’t easy for her. So, George would sit her down along side the trail in some soft dried grasses (perfect for ticks) he’d walk their crazy dog, then come back for Mama. I guess she never was bothered by the ticks, but maybe never saw them. I always wondered also how they picked the ticks off their black dog….difficult to see. Our street is tick heaven, it’s wooded, and I pick a couple off the dog or myself almost everyday. It’s really bad when you are talking to someone in town reach up and get a tick off your cheek…..that is sure bettin’ you do NOT live in the city.
Anyway this paining reminds me of the love that George and his wife had, she’s gone now……but I see him still….. walking the trail with his crazy dog.