On Wednesday, I got out for a low-key 4-mile lumber, mostly sticking to main paths, before coming home to cut the grass, which adds another 2 miles of walking behind a mower.
Despite the summer-like temps, the woods are becoming increasingly fall-like with each passing day, and while the fall colors are definitely better than the “brown season,” which lasts from November to May, I get a sick feeling in my stomach knowing the psychological torment that I’ll soon be putting myself through over the next few months as well as the omnipresent darkness that will spread over Michigan like a fat man’s nugget sack until the sun returns in May.
It seems like yesterday (or six days ago) when I was so overheated and drenched with sweat that I needed to stop by a trailside artesian well to douse myself with water to cool down, and today it was 45˚ when I got feetz on trail as the sun was rising. Shit.