32. 32 unrelenting degrees of cold, sharp daggers piercing my face. Clouds of my words fill the air as I saunter through the colorful forest alongside my dog Coco. My hand loses circulation as Coco begins to barrel through the forest and the leash tightens its grip. All I can hear is the rustling of leaves until I hear empty chops, I look down to see Coco with a mouthful of brown dead leaves crunching in her mouth. As we continue to walk through the painted landscape the best singers chirp, birdsongs fill the crisp morning air.

I unclip the leash and let Coco roam free, she brings back a stick with her tooth mark engraved into it and slobber running down to the edge of the stick. “Go get it!” I said as I flung the stick down the path into the distance. Crunch, crunch, crack I heard as Coco ran the stick back and jumped into my arms, I fell backwards eventually falling to the ground looking up at the barren painted blue sky a gust of wind blew over as the blue sky turned a multitude of orange and reds. Nature is so unpredictably pretty.