There are fewer things I love more than hiking the dusty trails of southern Utah with my tiny mountain goats who scale in the wake of their Daddy-o like sturdy kids of the animal variety.
It's becoming quite the love affair. They talk more when we walk together. They tell us things we otherwise might not hear from them. And they ask such thoughtful questions it kind of bowls us over.
They see more. Their eyes scan the horizon for stable foot treads and lizards and "awesome rocks" and bad guys, who --you never know, might be lurking in the bushes and will need to be "destroyed".
And yes, these treks south mean I must reach into the cooler to fetch chocolate milk and "gorilla bars" at least 241 times per trip... but it's worth it. "Reaching" in general proves to be worth it nine times out of ten, I'm learning.
Besides, let me try to describe what it looks like to confine these boys inside where walls limit their boundless sense of adventure. It looks like wrangling a grizzly and asking it to come sit on the couch. It's like trying to stay on one of those mechanical bulls when even if you grip with all you got -- you know you're gonna get thrown. It's like catching a piglet with your bare Vaseline'd hands.
It's brutal, folks.
So outdoors on a hiking trail - whelp - it looks far easier than the alternative. And it looks prettier.
So we've all kind of cozied up to the idea of hiking.
And in turn we cozy up to one another.
Which ain't too shabby from where I'm standing.
:)
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