A walk in the woods

  He’d turned on the football game and the pointless babble and the men running wildly on the high-­‐definition green grass drove her out to take a walk in their tiny foothills village. Sure, it was beautiful, the tall pines, the deer lopping across the road to join the two others waiting in the glen, the shock of the scarlet and the amber and the harvest orange leaves, yeah, yeah, it was all there.  

It was just such a change from the city. The people were either locals or retirees, so the missing teeth mountain types and their dreadlocked youth and the city folks who sold their houses in the city and bought land and peace of mind mingled together in the organic produce section, though in the village diversity just meant different kinds of white people: white trash, rich old white people who golfed, trim fit young white moms who did yoga, white ranchers who had always lived in the area, white hippies who grew weed.