Remember when you first started dating someone and instantly felt the pangs of love? Every text message, every phone call, every touch brings back those feelings. You want to know everything about them, and you feel like you won’t be whole until you do.
Jeff and I returned with Magnus a few days ago. The Real Feel in Rochester has been approaching Hell, so we arrived early. As we parked, we noticed how busy it was. We’re both introverts. Regardless, we were already committed.
We randomly chose the Orange trail, eeny meeny-miny-moe-style and soon discovered we were virtually alone—not a soul in sight. Oh, and when I said the Yellow trail was my favorite… Well, that was until I met Orange.
The trail snakes through trees, fields, and heavy forest areas. In many a bend, berries turn the path into shades of blue and purple. Monarch butterflies float along. Trees, young and old, seem to reach out with their roots. Dragonflies zip by to play in the lovely golden fields, which are dotted with bright orange flowers and trimmed with green thorny bushes.
Three plaques are scattered throughout the fields, created by Webster Girl Scout Troop 455. They are hand-illustrated and teach about the various birds, butterflies, and plants. It’s difficult not to smile at the talent and work required to produce such a project.
Around a corner, a large metal wagon wheel catches the eye. A “Private Residence” sign commands attention to the intersection. Who lives there? Why does the residence have its own trail? So many questions, not enough answers.
Further ahead, a fork splits the road. Forks are always intriguing. Which way should we go? The current trail is interesting and beautiful, but what if the other trail is more interesting or more beautiful? Decisions, decisions.
A steeply sloping hill ascends toward more orange blazes—up we go. The forest is welcoming, as is its shade. A strategically-placed bench sits around a corner to the left, set back from the rest of the trail. Clear indentations from mountain bike tires mark the dirt in every direction. It makes sense—this spot with major elevation changes, bridges up ahead, and plenty of dirt to kick up, makes for a great hot-spot for mountain bikers.
Several bridges pass through the remainder of the forest until the trail clears. We can practically feel the end up the trail coming up. Back at the intersection, the sign for “Trailhead” appears up ahead. Before long, we’re back to the parking lot. Feet and legs ache, skin is sweaty, and mouths are dry. After 1.7 miles, our courtship must resume another day.