A walk in the woods on a snowy day...

and I took the road less walked upon... wait a minute, that sounds familiar somehow...

Up on the coast of Maine today. A group walk through the December woods was planned but napping and sitting by the fire felled one person after another, so I had the delight of heading out "alone" - if you can be a lone with four of your beloved companions.

A friend lets us stampede her private road down to her private cove. Warm today, much had melted so the walking was easier than yesterday. We could go, wordless, together. The two shepherds trotting ahead but age and stiffness kept them to the road. Pip and PJ felt no such restrictions and dashed back and forth like swallows ahead of, around and behind us. Breaking the trudging sounds of us older folk with their joyous launching and landing through the winter crunch.

We moved as a group - no calls were made and yet we were connected through out. When we got to the cove, it was low tide. Rocks and seaweed laid bare, the grey winter ocean lapping some ways a way. Pip lost no time getting to the water's edge and wading back and forth, clearly just for the fun of it. The other's took a more dry land approach.

They suggested a walk around the point. By suggest, I mean they cut that way out of sight, then came back into view and looked at me, went back out and came back - "what do you think? How about this way?" and with no human to discourage my trek, off we went.

The rocks were ocean slick and tippy but I've clambered on Maine rocks since I could walk and know how to go with care. Taking this rather whimsical winding way made my body feel more like 7 than 47 - having to focus on each step, making sure the moving foot had a safe planting before shifting my weight.

Pip and PJ able to romp ahead, down at the water's edge. Confident that we were the only one's out, I could let them go hundred's of yards ahead without concerns. Watching them be the dogs they are, made me smile many times as I would pause to look at some ice formation or admire a tide tumbled rock.

The shepherds, of course, escorted me - concerned and close as we went along. Doing what they do best, tending their flock of 1 and I tended them. It works for us.

When we finally reached what passes for beach in Maine, tumbled rocks egg sized or smaller, I could pause- - take in the pines and earth, the rugged cut of Maine's landscape which taught me early to love harsh terrain and the people who lived in it.

Walking back toward the car, the terriers had no slowed a bit, the shepherds had a little, but the bounce in their step and the light in their eyes makes me happy we took the less travelled road today.

It is Christmas Eve, 2007, and it is good to spend a part of it this way.

Happy Holidays!