Nearly two decades, I came to upstate New York for so many different reasons – some I was aware of, some I was not. I was looking for love, I was looking to have a life with animals, and to write about the things I learned from studying and living with them. I first got a cabin near where I now live, I wrote “Running To The Mountain” there and I found a path in the woods to walk my dogs Julius and Stanley.

I bought Bedlam Farm in 2003, there was a mile-long path in the woods where I walked with the dogs almost every day, and then  walked with them and Maria.

And two years ago, we moved to our new farm, we  have found a new path which we love and now we walk with the dogs there. My dogs have always been wonderful on paths, (except for Frieda early on), they don’t chase after animals, they don’t run off, they stay close to us. Each path seems to be bigger and more beautiful. On this path, we explore Crystal Hill, where Maria often finds beautiful stones and crystals. I do not seem to have a gift for it.

I am coming to see life as a series of paths, some literal, some emotional, some in the nature of life – marriage, divorce, work, family. These paths take all of us to different places. Paths are important, they are the symbols of our lives, they mark the passages of time, they take us out of our lives or, sometimes, into it.

We missed the path this winter, it was simply too cold and icy to walk on it, it is a joy to see it coming to life, opening it up. This path speaks to me of another chapter in my life, a rebirth, our new home, my life with Maria, continuing to work to get my life into balance.

And this, too, speaks of change. Frieda can no longer jump up into the car, we have to lift her up, her hind legs tremble, she can walk comfortably on the path, as long as we avoid the hills. We say each day we ought to leave her behind, for her own sake, but most days, we can’t do it.