Our trails are a wee bit overgrown. After an evening hike with Baxter, I returned to the house and spent half an hour picking prickles off of my pants.
To be fair, I had ventured off trail for awhile when Baxter decided to choose his own adventure. (Did anyone read those books as a kid? I usually cheated and looked ahead to find what chapter I had to choose to get the good ending). However, half the prickles had already attached themselves to me before I left the path.
I asked Matt whether he thought a big strong man with a chainsaw might find his way out to the back woods. (Some trees are down too). He suggested a little strong woman could do it herself.
So much glamour and gallantry here on the farm.