My son Gideon and his wife, Sara, live less than a mile away from my house on County Road 7. We frequently walk back and forth between houses—but very seldom at night and very rarely in cold winter weather.
Our whole family loves walking on County Road 7. We’ve walked it in all directions in daylight hours. Our other son, Ben, and his family live on Creechville Road about a mile away. He walked from their house to our house one day with then five-yearold RaeAnne. She was a trooper and when they arrived, exhausted she said simply, “Thatwas a long walk.”
We’ve walked on County Road 7 many times during daylight hours. Sometimes it’s just Chuck and me walking with our cheerful golden retriever Fearless. Other walks include an entourage of people and pets—a stroller with grandbabies, energetic dogs on leashes. Depending on our energy levels and the contentment of the kids in strollers we take a short walk or a long walk.
Theshort walk starts at our driveway with a turn-around at County Road 13, with a stop on the corner to say hi to Val and Mike Littfin’s horses. Thelong walk goes up to Fall River, which we stubbornly still call Rosebush Creek, and includes a peek over the bridge wall to see if the water is frozen or flowing, running rapidly or trickling.
There’s always something to see on our walks. Sometimes wildlife— birds of course and deer, occasionally a bear, and once, when I was walking alone I saw a coyote. We get barked at by several dogs along the way. We check out new gardens being tended and garages being built. We wave at people when the sun isn’t making it impossible to see if we know them or not. County Road 7 is a busy place during the day.
It’s a different world at night, as I learned this week. I was visiting Gideon and Sara’s house and decided to walk home. Daughter-in-law Michele was there and she offered me a ride home, but I wanted to walk. As I exited their driveway and got away from the yard light, I started to think twice about not accepting the ride. It was incredibly dark. It was difficultto tell where the side of the road was. I walked really slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. As they did, I could almost tell where the shoulder was. But after tripping over a giant cottage cheese-like chunk of snow and almost falling, I decided to walk in the road, stepping into the snowbank when headlights appeared.
After I became comfortable walking in the dark, I realized it wasn’t really dark at all—the clear night sky was brilliant with stars. The moon was a tiny sliver of light and it drifted in and out of silvery clouds. It started to snow very lightly, flakes glistening in the pale moonlight. My walk took much longer than necessary as I savored the experience. I tried to remember the last time I took time to enjoy the night sky. I couldn’t remember.
As I turned up my driveway, I noticed that the Big Dipper hovered over my house. The house itself cast light out into the night, a welcoming glow. Despite frigid night air, I didn’t feel cold. A starry night walk warms the soul.
If the stars should appear but one
night every thousand years how man
would marvel and stare.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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