This walking stick holds stories. Too many to count. It holds lots of memories, a rich history of forest hikes, stream stomps, hill climbs, and all sorts of field walking excursions.

If this walking stick could utter its tales. It would share the many times that it’s travel worn bottom end was sunk into earthen loam as its hiking partner leaned heavily upon it to get a better foothold in the leaf littered forest floor. It might tell of the times a diminutive family rambler or two plunged it’s entire lower end into a cool clear creek to prod around curiously for hidden creatures in the colorful pebbles below.

It has a vast treasure trove of memories to share. This walking stick with its smooth worn top end from many hands gently eroding its wood to their grasp. It would tell many stories if it could, but for now it rests alone in the closet corner awaiting more spring and summer adventures.

Our tale is not done. For, now, there rests another beside the old walking stick. A new addition to the fun that lays ahead. They stand propped in the corner, the new intertwining with the old. For that’s how this new walking stick looks, she was made from a twisted oak branch felled in a storm.

The old walking stick looks forward to the end of winter when they can both go adventuring, bringing home new stories to tell next winter as they rest in the corner of the closet awaiting the coming of spring.

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