I stayed outside last night until the sun hovered on the horizon and the mosquitoes chased me indoors. A weather system moved across the sky, painting wisps of pink as the sun set over the clouds. I knew this morning would bring another inspired sky. It did.
I knew the stormy sky would bring rain somewhere, as the humidity slowed my pace. (Sure enough, our local news station warned of flash floods and thunderstorms.) The heat left Kona panting, and she didn't seem to mind as I lingered to watch the sky. She even seemed relaxed as I snapped a picture of her next to our rusted barbed wire fence. I often wonder who put the fence up and what line in guarded so many decades ago.
As we hiked on, the sun crested over the forest in the east, turning the scorched landscape into a hillside of gold.
We turned around into the rising sun. I was grateful for the steep climb that blocked the blinding rays.
When we reached our turnoff point for the car, I decided to keep hiking. Kona followed without hesitation. A year ago, a change in routine would have shot her anxiety through the roof. It's the small things that remind me that I often have no idea what I'm doing with this little dog, but maybe we're on the right path.