I love a walk in the fall. 
It is different than any other time.
It is wading in a pirate’s rich bounty, kicking gold dubloons with every step.
It is watching the hills turn amber, and empty of their summer company.
I have a Midas paw; I am the richest dog in the world!
Today I bask in unbelieveable warmth, just like summer, on the banks of the pond. After a swim of course, in water still pretty warm.
The hint and dread of deep freeze is banished by a sun still generous in heat and grass still green.
And this after a weekend of snow and freeze! 
We walk a little later these days, as the morning is frosty and the sun slow to make it over the east hills.
The smells are different beneath the chill, but I still run the creek bottoms and discover every nighttime visitor.
Last night, we took a short walk in the moonlight; it was so big and orange, I thought I should bark and scare the intruder away!
I don’t like to be out after sunset though – I’ve had enough dark nights alone, and I do not like to hear coyotes!
We walk with thoughts and memories of those who used to walk with us. Those are times I miss the old cowboy who once helped ramrod this place.
We walk in prayer, for the little boys to grow into warrior-strong men of God.
Now they fearlessly run woodland paths, but I know there will be rough trails ahead.
I gaze at the hills fading from green to amber, to leafless – and the mountains upstream already dusted in snow – and I’m sure just as this old world keeps running through each season, it still needs prayer too, in every season.
I remember some of the trails I walked long ago. There was that time in the desert – lonely, afraid, hungry and lost.
But in time, that trail led me here, so every step, every sore paw, every bump in the night – was worth the walk.
This walk in the fall is an extraordinary trip. 
We go together on these walks, the boss and I, with gratitude.
Right now I don’t have the anticipation of Spring or joy of Summer, but I have the contentment of a peaceful landscape, with resting pastures and fat livestock heading down to home pastures and the security of hay.
Many walks take us on winterizing chores – we clean the coop and add plenty of straw and hay. We clean up the hay pen, to be filled this
weekend. We cut down plants, collect seeds, put away tools. 
After a couple winters here, I can picture where the snow will be piled, where the sledding tracks will run, where wild turkeys will loiter and deer will gather. I know our paths will be narrowed by snowbanks and a hustle to get back in to the warmth of a fire.
A walk in the fall is looking over my shoulder at a swift summer, and looking forward to another long, perhaps cruel winter.
It is a path that weaves two worlds.
I am a dog wringing joy from every moment, determined to, not just dread the cold and hunker down before it, but to always walk a path that seeks delight.
I am, after all, a Heeler, and I will find joy in every step I take. 
Right now, I’ll just stay out and soak up the sunshine.
This walk in the fall is pure gold!
The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever.” Isaiah 40:8
