Happy Dogs Fly

I’m dropping off a mountain meadow. It and the access trail are weighed down with snow. Aki is nowhere to be seen. We just passed a collection of five dogs. Maybe she is still playing with them. I should whistle for the little poodle. If dusk had already descended or this were eagle country, I’d be worried. But the sun still shines, the dogs we just met were mellow, and the sky is clear of raptors. 

            Today’s warmer temperatures have softened the meadow snow. This will keep Aki on the packed trail, which scars the meadow snow like a knife cut. As I start to reverse directions to look for the pooch, she comes rocketing around the corner and slides to a stop at my feet. She is having a good time. 

I’m dropping off a mountain meadow. It and the access trail are weighed down with snow. Aki is nowhere to be seen. We just passed a collection of five dogs. Maybe she is still playing with them. I should whistle for the little poodle. If dusk had already descended or this were eagle country, I’d be worried. But the sun still shines, the dogs we just met  were mellow, and the sky is clear of raptors. 

            Today’s warmer temperatures have softened the meadow snow. This will keep Aki on the packed trail, which scars the meadow snow like a knife cut. As I start to reverse directions to look for the pooch, she comes rocketing around the corner and slides to a stop at my feet. She is having a good time. 

            When we reached the meadow afternoon sun shone on Sheep, Roberts, and the other mountains on the North side of Gastineau Channel. Then the sun dropped behind the Douglas Island ridge, leaving the north side mountains in a dusk-like funk. Mt. Juneau, which was also lit up by the sun, has disappeared behind aggressive clouds. Aki doesn’t seem to mind this return to the gray. She charges down the trail, ready for her next meet and greet with neighborhood dogs. 

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