Walking to the coulee to visit the deer

Sharing with Our World Tuesday.

Southern Alberta has many hills and valleys, called coulees, sculpted by long-ago glaciers.
Above is the coulee where Lindy loved to go with her daddy because they usually saw deer.
Lindy was fascinated with the deer, probably because none of them wore collars and leashes and, especially, snowboots. She was always sure they were having more fun that she was having.
She would tug on her leash, trying to get Dick to go closer to those beautiful animals, but she never barked. Never once barked at a deer.
In the winter, they come to our house, to feast on the ornamental crabapples on the tree in the front yard where there's no fence.
Lindy used to have a seat at the dining room window, and she'd see the deer coming, three, four, five or more at a time. They'd walk right past her window, and she'd just watch them.
Now that she is old and blind, she can't see them any more, so she doesn't sit under the window now. She sits, instead, on the couch where there's usually a mom or a dad to come to cuddle with her.
If she's lying on the floor, and I sit on the couch, she'll move until she is covering my feet, as if to say, "You don't need to go anywhere, Mom. I'll keep your feet warm for you. You like warm feet, and I like having you here."
Photos (not recent) by my husband, Richard Schear, Lindy's daddy