Sometimes the best balm for a bad mood is a trip to the woods. Libby and I ventured down to Roundrock on Sunday (and if you’re paying attention you’ll see that this makes two weekends in a row). We had virtually nothing planned other than a day among the trees, and that meant we could let our spirits take us wherever we wanted. They took us to the comfy chairs, repeatedly.

Just as soon as we arrived, Libby lowered the back of the front seat of the TOYOTA and took a snooze. This left me free to wander about a bit, and my feet took me over to rumination rock, which overlooks the lake. While I sat here, ruminating, it seems that Libby had a sort of adventure. When we met later at the comfy chairs under the shady tarp overlooking the still lake, she asked me what the precise meaning of the word “interloper” was because she thought she might have seen two interlopers come down our road and walk past the truck while she was in it!

“Hunters?” I asked.

“No.”

“Deer?”

“No.”

“Armadillos?”

“No.”

“Coyotes?”

“Close.”

It seems that two dogs came striding down the road, walking as though they had some business somewhere. One had a collar that she could see, so they must have been local farm dogs and not part of some pack of feral dogs. They took no notice of her as the wandered past and continued down into the pecan plantation. All the while I was quite nearby at rumination rock. It makes me wonder just how close things may be in our woods that we never know about.

After exhausting ourselves with this discussion, we allowed the comfy chairs to carry us into a sort of pre-lunch stupor. Our conversation was fitful, and wandered over the landscape, punctuated by long stretches of silence as we let the birds and frogs fill in the gaps. We talked about what we might do with our day. I had neglected to bring along the metal detector — I wanted to sweep an area around what might be an old fire ring — and I forgot to bring the post driver, so the plan of cutting a thinner cedar to see if it would work as a post was out. We forgot to get fixins for Smores, so making that little treat was not possible.

That left plenty of things we could have done: grass whipping (I remembered to bring the whips this time) or branch trimming around the shelter. Cutting overhanging branches along the road. There were logs to be split at our campsite, for which I had brought the sledge and wedge. Trail building and improving. Trimming the tall grass around the planted trees. Inspecting the nannyberry and button bush we’ve planted. Collecting sandstone for eventual home construction. Collecting more round rocks for the upcoming gift-giving season. (I can’t part with them yet I must part with them.) In the end we didn’t choose any of these.

We decided to take a walk around the lake. This required minimal equipment: a backpack with some water bottles and a pair of loppers. Two pair of feet. A curious spirit. We were on our way.

Missouri calendar:

• Black gum, bittersweet and dogwood show fall color.

Today in Missouri history:

• James Carson Jamison was born on this date in 1830. During his colorful life he caught gold fever, fought with Walker in Nicaragua, was a Confederate leader in Missouri, published various newspapers, was adjutant general for a Missouri governor and lived to be 86 years old.

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