today, when we went to the river dike to walk the dogs, the grass was all mowed down. i took it as a good sign, being that it was haircut day and all, looking for signs everywhere to help me muster up the courage to cut my hair in the first place. it is, after all, a part of me, that hair is a timeline of my life. but it's spring, and somehow, the new growth around me encourages me to shed the past. the dogs reveled in the short grass path, the ability to see, how cutting the tangled tall grass makes space, makes way for new growth. they ran joyfully hard and fast, two dogs full steam ahead, stopping every now and again to sniff the mounds of dry grass along the edges, hunting like coyotes for casualties of the mower blade, a mouse or vole carcass to swallow whole. they are smart like that, instinctual, and we let them be wild on these walks. for us, it's an exercise in trust. because nature usually takes care of us, if we allow it the space to do so. and we don't want to raise little obedient robots, after all.
around one bend and then another we walked, until ahead, i spotted a coyote, hunting those same grass mounds as my pups. colored grey as a sandy beach, all feral rough and fluffy, he didn't see us coming. a rare sighting. i froze, and then turned to make sure my boys were close. coyotes are everywhere here, but they are elusive. the wind must have been blowing in just the right direction, hiding our scent, so we were closer than i've ever been. i took it as a good sign, and couldn't get the picture of that coyote out of my head as i drove up to town to get my long locks lopped.
driving home with two cut braids in my bag, i felt lighter than i have in a while.