Daily Prompt A Moment in Time What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it. (No story behind the photo? Make one up, or choose the last picture you took that had one.)
Dusty and Mindy and I were walking around the Monte Vista Golf Course. There might be a lot of golf courses like this one, but I’ve never seen them. In my life, this one is unique. The driving range is a pasture, no domestic animals in it, but a pasture still. The edge of the golf course is the open vista of the San Luis Valley. A freight train runs along one edge for a distance. On the other side are houses, small houses, but houses, and the high school.
The morning had hung gray with freezing fog. Generally, I like freezing fog because it makes the trees beautiful, but it’s a little treacherous in the places where it’s glazed the sidewalk with an invisible coating of ice.
Around 1 pm the fog was gone. I leashed up the two dogs. It’s not like they would ever go anywhere; I’ve tested them. We headed down the alley, across the fourth hole and the little bridge over the irrigation ditch to the MAIN event, the big part of the golf course where I let them “run” free.
Running free in their case (and mine…) is kind of laughable. Mindy is old, overweight and arthritic and she never runs or even goes very fast (unless there’s dinner on the horizon). Dusty, bless his heart, is terrified to be away from me. His “early childhood education” involved being pushed out of a car, kicked to the side of the road and left behind. After that, all he wanted in the world was a human to love him. Though he has one now, in his little Dusty heart, he’s never sure. He never goes farther than 10 feet away from me. I would like him to run free, but that’s “free” for Dusty. As for me, even though (or because?) I used to run on trails across the hills almost every day of my life, because of damaged joints, and learning I must be a little careful, I don’t even really remember HOW to run. See? Freedom IS relative.
Time was I would have thought a winter walk on a golf course was beyond lame. Now I’m happy I can do it. I think sometimes of the news reporter who asked the great ski racer, Jean-Claude Killey, how he felt now that he could only walk in the forest. Killey replied, “Ah, but I can walk in ze forest!” It isn’t nothing.
After we’d walked twenty minutes or so, the residue of a mildly bad mood had lifted. We turned around and headed home. Mindy was somewhat more frisky at the thought of the possibility of a TINY cookie at the end; I think the main reason she begs to go on walks is because she might get a cookie when she gets home. There, under a big elm tree, were tracks in the snow. I could have seen them on the way out, but I didn’t. Once more, too preoccupied with stuff like, “C’mon Mindy!” and “It’s OK, Dusty. Just GO!” to pay attention to what was right in front of me (or under my feet).
The TRACKS were LARGE, sort of deer-like and cow-like at the same time. I thought “elk” because elk is common here, and I honestly didn’t know. Whatever they were, it was extremely cool to see them.
I got home and posted the photo of the tracks here, on WordPress. Serendipity asked if they might be moose tracks. I did a little research, and VOILÁ! They were…
And last night, when I took Lily, the geriatric Siberian Husky Princess, out front to pee, I heard the moose on the golf course, “singing” the songs of the moose, in voices resembling the lowing of desperate cows.