Slice of Life Tuesday is hosted by Two Writing Teachers
We came up the trail, a sea of golden ferns on either side. So far, the path up the mountain had been fairly gentle, but we knew that soon it would curve sharply and then rise steeply. The last time we’d hiked this part of Merck Forest in Vermont, it had been a perfect Indian Summer day; but Fall had definitely arrived, and there was a bite in the air with rain clouds threatening. We quickened our pace in the hopes of making it to the top (and its glorious view of the mountains of New York and Vermont in all their Fall glory) and back before the storm.
My ancient L.L. Bean blucher moccasins, its soles worn smooth with years of use, slipped and slid this way and that once we began the trickier part of the trail, this sentimental choice in footwear was perhaps not the best one. My hiking partners moved ahead while I scrambled between vines and roots, and then stumbled upon this sight:
There it sat, delicately wedged into a spot sure to catch the eye of some child making his or her way down the mountain and in search of a furry, blue friend. This friend smiled patiently, its eyes fixed steadfastly on the path. It looked content to wait, to be found. It was just a matter of time before its rightful owner would come scampering down the path and spy it sitting there, in the crook of a tree, placed perfectly for a woodland reunion.