My Horny Valentine

I apologize for the title of this post. It is not in keeping with my always-ladylike mien, but I couldn't resist. At this point I'll do about anything to get people to click on a blog link. And it will all make sense as you read on.

February 14, 2015. The cold front currently making Ohio as cold as a welldigger's ass was coming. I could feel it winding up to something awful. Which turned out to be temperatures dipping near zero. But this Valentine's morning, it was a balmy 26, and I decided to get me and Chet out for a long run/walk/ramble/expotition on my new favorite road.

Yes. That is a barn with a hex sign, and a very old log cabin down in the holler. Riches.

The road is frankly terrible if you're in a car, but OK if you're in running shoes or paws.

We bundled up; Chet in double sweaters and me in more clothes than I should have worn. 

This is what Chet looks like in double sweaters. He feels very hangdog until we get outside.

 The temperature slowly rose to 38 on the ridge of warm air before the cold front, and just as quickly plummeted as the wind picked up. I dehisced, then reapplied layers. I needed all those clothes again by the end of the outing.

Chet was just as glad to have two sweaters on, too. Besides, the back scratching he gets when I peel them off him is so divine. A tiny film of Chet running:

Do not miss the tip of the Tennessee turd-tail in Photo 3.

We had a wonderful run. We were nearing the car and it was still bearable outside. I didn't want to go home yet. Something urged me to take a tiny deer trail off the road, that I could see led through tall sumac to a mowed path through an old field thick with goldenrod and more sumac. It looked delicious down there.

I walked right over it the first time, going out.

And coming back, Chet stopped briefly to sniff it, and because I always check out what Chet checks out, it materialized for me, too.

See it yet?

Ah. This is fresh. Before the last snow, but not long before. No mouse or vole has found it. It is perfect.

I would very much like to have this for my own, but I am already doubting you will relenquish it.

You doubt correctly, Chet Baker. This is my horny Valentine.

Bless the unseen hand

That guides me off the dirt road

to the cast antler.

It's something to hold

This perfect spire of cold bone

Not one soul has touched.

This find has sparked a kind of fever in me for searching for sheds, as people familiar with the quest call them. Night before last I was out at dusk, looking in a deer yard for sheds. I need to wait until the snow has melted. I'll never find a white antler under snow.