Ellison and I are in love with night hiking. It's pretty much all we want to do now.
For our second hike of the 52 Hike Challenge we decided to take advantage of the miles of trails in our area and go out for a twilight walk. It was cold and clear - the kind of weather that makes me excited about winter, but also thankful that temperatures only dip this low a few nights a year. We bundled up, brought the dog and headed out to cover the 4 miles that wind through our neighborhood.
We passed the horse pasture, where Ellison delighted in the fact that the horses were wearing blankets and where she spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get Waylon to shown an interest in his equine neighbors. He honestly could not have cared any less, despite them coming up to the fence to check him out. We took the wooded route behind the houses (because we felt that was staying more true to the challenge - sidewalks kind of seemed like cheating) and Ellison stopped every few feet to collect more ingredients for her "woodland shrimp" dish that she was creating out of seed pods, berries and torn leaves. It was super cute and made me grateful to be out at night, just the two of us, talking about nothing in particular. She is turning nine on Friday. Nine. We talked about how that felt and what it meant to her. And me. And she seems to be taking it better than I am.
As the sun was setting and it was quickly getting colder and darker, Ellison and I agreed that a night hike was the perfect change of pace. These were the same trails we have taken a million times during the day, but a golden glow was cast over the trees as the moon started to rise and things seemed both comfortingly familiar and delightfully different. We have lived in this neighborhood for the past 12 years. We love it so much that when we finally decided to move to a bigger place, we didn't even do a house search - we just bought the one across the street. It is the only neighborhood Ellison has ever known, or ever will know before she leaves for college. When she reflects on her childhood as an adult, this is the place she'll remember. These walks, these woods, these times together spent with her parents and her dog. I can only hope that she remembers it fondly. I like to think that it is nights like these that go a long way ensuring that she will. That and the promise that when she turns nine she can have both a hamster and a later bedtime.
So, yeah, all of this from a simple walk around our neighborhood a little later than usual.
See you back here soon!
See you back here soon!
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