The Swamp Path
Late on Thursday evening Miss Sadie, the Cowboy and I were having a last walk before bedtime. It was dark, but I had a flashlight and they always carry their noses with them, so that was all right. We were getting to the part of the road that goes past the swamp. I heard something . . . odd. The little hairs on the back of my neck rose, and the dogs froze, staring intently into the blackness. That was enough for me. We turned tail and went right back the way we had come.
But yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day. The snow was crunchy and not too deep. The swamp looked inviting rather than sinister. Into the swamp, then!
The ponds were frozen over. Watch where you step. The path was littered with fallen branches . . . and fallen trees. Look up, too. Watch what you walk under. But it’s all quite beautiful on a crisp sunny morning.
We left the swamp path feeling exhilarated and quite pleased with ourselves for being brave. Sort of brave. On to the bluff! The Bay was still there, ice-free and salt-free.