From the racket on the sun room of a late night downpour, we should consider the timing of our trek this afternoon on the trails of Sehome Arboretum either dumb luck or perfect timing. Tomorrow we couldn't have done it without cleats.
Miles of trails and 165 acres of hilltop and after an hour most of the ground Casey and I were covering seemed to go nowhere but uphill, but we practically had the woodlands all to ourselves. Except for an infrequent crow squabble the quiet was deafening. You could almost hear the ferns murmer as we passed, not that Casey noticed.
After covering nearly three times my mileage today, on a pace that was nowhere near maximum conserve, he really conked out early - more like the farm dog he used to be.
There was no way Casey was going to wait until I put the lid on the laptop down tonight.
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