I'm pretty sure there is a story I wanted to share about walking sweet pea along with the dog who walks himself (irresponsible owners who live across the street from the woods and let the dog roam free) but I can't for the life of me recall what the story was. Even though whatever it is I wanted to share just happened to me.
I really started going back to the woods, which feels freaking fantastic. I avoid my old walking buddies because they don't wear masks (one is a dental hygienist, so I feel like its just a matter of time before she gets hit with the virus) so I was actually happy to see the dog who walks himself. It's so much better for sweet pea to have someone to pal around with. They really do pay attention to what the other one is doing. Together they cornered a groundhog the other day and it was quite the ruckus when the dog who walks himself shook it to death. I knew it was finally dead when I couldn't hear the ground hog screaming over my unheeded commands to drop it. (In my defense, it's not my dog, sweet pea dropped a chipmunk once on command, and I was pretty much the one who taught the dog to sit) Thankfully once the ground hog stopped moving the dog who walks himself did put it down and walk away without tearing into it, so at least there was no blood involved.
Now that I am parking on the street where the dog who walks himself lives, I enter the park/woods on the opposite side from where I typically enter. I am not far, from the outermost path around the grounds, which is where I like to go anyway because less people make the effort to go there, it's hilly, which means down and up and also you have to cross a small stream to get there and folks do not like their dogs getting wet. So, I've been heading straight towards the less populated area and on the fringe of the woods, across the stream, is a small little section of park that had a ton of beech trees. Beech trees are the smooth gray trees people favor for carving their names into. I noticed that the leaves of these trees were doing strange things. They have dark stripes between the veins, are sometimes very thick and dark looking or curled up and browning. It's quite remarkable, how discomforting the woods feels over where the trees look strange. I asked a friend to check it out and she told me that there is some kind of unknown pathogen attacking beech trees and because the origin of the pathogen is unknown there isn't anything we know to do to help the trees. You guys, the trees have their own version of corona. I can not believe I left for a few months and came back to a tree plague.
Guess what I am going to try to photograph for the rest of the summer! Yup, the last breaths of the beech trees. I am pretty sad about this. I loved looking those trees, especially in the winter because they'd keep a lot of their leaves and the leaves would be a light tan color. They were so pretty. I wish I photographed them more. We might not have them around if this thing has its way with all of them. There is a chance that some trees will be immune to the pathogen, so that is what I am holding out hope for.
In the mean while, we continue to hide, minus walking sweet pea, and I am so very conflicted about walking sweet pea. I mean, I don't wanna die yet so I don't wanna know how bad corona is. I feel no need to be a survivor, I'd rather be a dodger. I am very concerned about the long term effects of this virus, and want no part of it at all. I am also so worried that Josh's school might try to do something on campus in the fall and that will not be acceptable to me. I already told him that there isn't a chance in hell it will be safe for students to return to campus in the fall and that I won't send him. Especially if there are life long consequences to having lived through this virus. No 19 year old deserves to have neurological damage or vascular problems for the rest of their lives when it could have been avoided in the first place. This is a no brainer.
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