Big Dog and I don't really hug this old black walnut tree; no human arms could reach around the broad girth of its mossy trunk.
But we never pass that tree, Big Dog and me, that we don't stop beside it to stand up tall and look straight up into its spreading branches. For Mick, I know it's that he wants to see if his old nemesis Black Squirrel is lurking there. For me, it's that I simply love this tree; love the very LOOK of it, reaching up into the stratosphere.
We stopped here yesterday, a cloudy day, when the sun surprisingly came out just before the end of day. That inspired Big Dog and me to walk outside along the trail leading to the tree, near the barn my Bob had built so many years ago, beside the singing creek. Bob loved that tree and creek and barn; to his last day among us.
What better way, I mused, for Mick and me to end our day? What better place for us to stop and say, "Good night, World... Good night, tree and barn and creek... And good night, Bob."
And then we walked to Bob's stone bench above the creek and watched the sun go down. Quietly, in peace.
