Sophie and I are heading out for an afternoon ramble.

The fields and woods are like paintings now, with streaks of gold, green, crimson and rusty brown against a canvas sky.


I walk slow, shuffling and kicking the leaves, just as I used to do as a child.


Sophie lopes ahead, so happy to be outside with all the interesting woodsy scents to snuffle. She never goes very far without stopping to make sure I’m coming along.


A little squirrel chatters away, scolding us for coming too close to his tree.


Take a deep, deep breath – can you smell it? The air is spiced with fallen leaves, ferns and spruce boughs.


There’s an old abandoned mill pond just around the bend. I sit on the bank for a while to rest.The October sun is warm on my face and I close my eyes.


Somewhere, nearby, hidden beneath a tangle of branches and fallen logs, I hear the sound of water rushing over rocks. A little waterfall. I love watching the dark brown rush of water, the white foaminess, the swirls and eddies.

I’d love to search for it, but the sun is slanting low and the dark comes quickly on October evenings.

Sophie and I head back to the car, a little reluctantly.

“Another day,” I promise her.

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