Photo by Bill Stokes
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, reports that on that beautiful Saturday when the world celebrated freedom from the clutches of sadistic narcissism, the keeper and Phyllis escaped the confines of their coronavirus exposed-facility and more or less climbed a mountain. The “mountain” was an old one—at least 500 million years, and is part of Wisconsin’s magnificent Ice Age Trail near Cross Plains. Trail information signs said, among other things, that there was once an ocean here which explains the round grains of sand responsible for the abrupt elevation changes.
The climb had not been planned—not the proper foot gear and a limited water supply, but it seemed like the thing to do after a BLT lunch on a bench in the warm sunshine. So the keeper and Phyllis did it, slowly following the steep, winding trail up the “mountain,” and through the expanse of restored prairie and oak savannah.
Considering their health circumstances—with the Covid threat looming, and their ages, particularly the keeper’s making him as old as a Model A Ford, the Saturday “mountain” climb was a wondrous thing; and it left the keeper and Phyllis appreciative of their good fortune in not only being able to do it, but also to making it back to the car before it got totally dark.
The keeper noted later that by briefly soaking their abused feet in warm water while sipping a bit of wine, he and Phyllis could relive the “mountain” climb and think how damn lucky they had been on that celebratory Saturday.
