Jim and I took a long walk the other morning in the San Marcos Reserve. Weather was cool even a little cold in the canon floor. We had walked about four miles when I noticed the tread marks in the dry dust of the road. In many places it was like a beautiful mosaic. Boot prints on top of prints, big hiking boots, little tiny shoes, and lots of dog paws. We had just walked on this part of the road minutes ago. Couldn’t help but wonder where our foot prints landed. Who’s prints did we tread upon and, in time, who would erase ours.

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