On my walk earlier this week, I came across a white truck from one of the local timber management companies. The driver waved at me and asked if I was the property owner.

It was a normal day, and I was doing my normal walk around the cemetery loop, a walk that I do several times a week. I rarely encounter anyone, hardly ever see cars along that particular section which is just a rough, rutted, dirt road that parallels the railroad tracks.

I didn’t like it.

I had Biscuit the blanket stealing dog with me. He did not look particularly fierce, I am afraid, because he had just finished rolling around in the red dirt, and was covered in pine needle bits and twigs and was wagging his tail, as he does.

I have read enough books that advise women to follow their gut instincts, and if something seems off, or a little strange, to pay attention. We are told not to be nice or polite. We are told to honor our intuition and do whatever we have to do to keep ourselves safe.

It is a bit of a drag that this is how the world is, that this is how it has always been.

I did not like that there was a white truck on my road where I walk.  I did not like that the man talked to me.

Even more? I didn’t like my instinctive response. Continue Reading…