Hiking On The First Day of Spring

There is a certain magic about snow. Just the slightest layer can blanket a valley and white wash a brown muddy valley overnight. Little Ann and Old Dan woke me up that first spring morning and when I saw it was snowing I knew we had to get out into the woods and enjoy the last few breaths of old man winter.

I got out of bed and the house was cold. It was the kind of morning I find myself fighting the urge to make a pot of hot chocolate and a fire in the fireplace. Dogs are creatures of habit and mine are no different. Our morning hikes have become a bit of a ritual and the dogs had no interest in trading the hike for the aroma of hot chocolate and the heat of a fire. I pulled on my flannel-lined kaki pants, sweater and a hat, and we were out the door.

We agreed to go hike Trout Brook Valley. The land of Trout Brook Valley is contiguous to the Crow Hill and Jump Hill conservation areas and together they make up 1,009 acres of open space that offer 20.7 miles of trails. This beautiful open space is managed by the Aspectuck Land Trust.

We pulled into a parking lot off Bradley Road in Weston and found it empty. Walking into the park we were making the first tracks in the new fallen snow and that lent itself to the idea that it was there just for us.

The dogs always run ahead and sniff out things here and there. It makes it difficult sometimes to get photos of them. I have to call them back to me to get a photo. They always insist on going first.

Old Dan likes to jog along out front to sniff out any danger I suppose. Little Ann seems to sometimes get lost in the scents she picks up and often finds that she has to catch up to me and Old Dan. She likes to hike closer to me than Old Dan, and she never passes up an opportunity to drink from a creek along the way.

We hiked the green trail that morning. It is a nice easy loop that crosses some streams, winds through the woods and crosses a meadow. For this Monday morning it was perfect.

Visually, the snow had the same effect on me as it did back in the beginning of winter. I relish how snow can change the landscape. Overnight everything was different. Rocks, dirt and trees were no longer brown and green, as they were now white. Only the moving water in the steams remained the same.

The snow made the rocks slippery and I lost my footing more than once. Before long I began to realize my gaze was more transfixed on the trail in front of me than it was on the beauty surrounding me.

I stopped and listened to the silence. Then I heard the gurgle of the babbling brook, the snowflakes hitting the trees and the crunch of the snow underfoot as I rocked back on my heels.

The dogs sensed that I had stopped so they turned around and trotted back to me. They stood next to me breathing quietly trying to hear what I was hearing. Their heads do not echo with appointments, deadlines and voicemails and right then and there either did mine. For just a few moments the world moved on and we just watched and listened. We shared that time and made it our own.

We continued along and on our way back came across another dog and its owner. The dogs seemed to play a quick game of tag. The dog-walker smiled at me and commented on how nice that it was snowing and not raining.

After about 45 minutes we were back at the car. The dogs’ coats were dripping from the snow and the bottoms of my pants were soaked. When I got into the car and looked in the back at their wet furry faces, I knew we were all thinking the same thing . . . a fire in the fireplace.