The only aspiration is to amble along on unpredictable paths, with frequent pauses to watch the sunspots wake up the sides of trees and listen to mysterious animal footsteps in the brush, and hoist the dogs up onto stumps shaped like raging ogres. Some of them hoist themselves, some I do the hoisting. It’s wet, I wear boots, the dogs are muddy. To not be in a hurry, to not almost be late for work, to not have a lot of bikers flying through, to not have the old timey tweed hat guy chase me down the hill. Just to have time to amble.