The boys are having another November beard-off.
This is the second year we've hiked the half-day Millennium Trail (8 miles) on Halloween. Kurt mentioned that when we're out hiking, it feels like we're husband and wife the most. No distractions, no phones or computers. Just us and our conversation. Our little family of four (dogs count) making our way through the forest. Those are the best times.
Mule stayed glued to Kurt's pant leg the whole way, only tempted away for brief moments to wallow in whatever foul smelling piles of leaves/death/dog piss along the trail. He's the ideal dog in many ways, because he never gets tired or cold and would protect us from bad guys or follow us through streams, across fallen logs and up jagged rocks without hesitation. Harold, on the other hand, always strays ahead. He is an adventurer, free and fast. He's my favorite to watch, because he's so full of joy in the forest. He gallops ahead, stopping only when he's just barely in sight. He pauses for a moment to consider the distance before running back to us at full speed with a cloud of leaves and dust billowing up behind him. He covers twice as much ground this way, staking out the path ahead and running back to tell us about it. Sometimes, the trail is completely hidden with leaves, but Harold always knows the way.