The view from the tiny deck of our cabin. That's Lake Superior, if you cannot tell.
Our cabin.
The fire pit.
Why am I showing you a photo of the fire pit in the front yard of the cabin? Because it was the scene of Smokey's latest near-death experience.
One morning he took the dogs out for their beginning-of-the-day pee. Since the benches of the picnic table were damp from dew, he sat on the seat of his walker, which, in addition to a nice padded seat, is on wheels.
Can you see how the ground slopes to the left toward The Lake? Yes, the walker started to roll downhill.
Because he had a dog leash on each wrist, his hands were not as free as they might have been. And, although the walker has brakes, the wheels were damp from the dew and the brakes just slipped. He rolled backward, the wheels hit the cast iron edge of the fire pit, and he tipped backwards at precisely the right angle to strike the back of his head on the downhill edge.
Did he suffer a concussion? Did he fracture his skull? Did his sever his spinal column? Any of those were possible.
He did not even get a lump on his head. And he said that after the initial impact it did not even hurt.
I find it hard to imagine those last two, but I felt for a lump and there was none.
The hard-headed Swede detailing his walker.
