Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

I am watching Robert Cabral talk about the tragic dog attack in Tennessee, the one that killed a 5 month old and a 2 year old. The mother ended up in the hospital in critical condition because she was trying to protect her children.  Just tragic. No words. None. When this happened, I sat and cried for those kids and that mom. I'm crying again because it didn't have to happen. Cabral mentioned he thinks the baby started crying and it was the crying that set the dogs off. That was my first thought when I heard about this. And it took me back to a moment in a dog park when Angel Baby was five. We had taken Max, our black lab mix, to the dog park to run and play. My kids brought their softball gloves and ball to toss around. Lovely Beautiful Daughter tossed the ball to Angel Baby. The ball rolled out of his glove, up his forearm and smacked into his nose. He started wailing. A high-pitched, my nose hurts wail. Blood streamed down, over his lips and onto his shirt. I was about five

Yesterday, Murphy and I went on an adventure. I've been thinking about new activities for him as we both have kind of gotten bored with our usual walk. The walks are fine, but Murphy's been giving me the side-eye as we walk along, like he's trying to tell me, "Hoomin, weze bin dis way zillions of times. Derz no nu smells. I's need nu smells." After a lot of thinking and researching, I found Dogwood Farms in Indiana.  So Murphy and I drove over to see if he would like to herd sheep. It turns out he kinda does. At first, he was just totally confused. Mary Lou, the shepherd of Dogwood Farms and trainer of sheep dogs, said the confusion is perfectly normal. There was a lot going on that Murphy was trying to figure out. Towards the end of the session, Mary Lou dropped the lead to see how Murphy reacted. I totally get why she didn't want to just turn him loose from the get-go. I would have been mortified if Murphy had gone all attack-mode. But he didn't. He

 

Dear JK, For some time now, really since saying goodbye to Ado, you've seemed a bit off, as if you're mooring line  untethered and you're just drifting about. He was your wharf and you didn't understand this until the vet sat next to you and said in so many words there was no fixing what was wrong with him. That day will stay with you for a long time. As will the day you sat on the floor beside Ado, whispering to him, petting him, watching the light dim then go out entirely. Those moments have played out over and over the last two months. One day they will fade.  And you will find peace. There will come a day the tears won't fall. Instead, you'll smile, thinking of all the wonderful that happened because of that little furry puppy who came into your life and marked out a spot in your heart that was all for him. Just for him.  For now, it's okay to mourn. It's okay to not want to do things. It's okay to miss your beautiful boy.

Yesterday, I had an incredible day. At one point, while I was on my way home from town after going to get a few houseplants to add to the small assembly I already have, I wondered if . . . in a month, a year, five years, ten years . . . I would remember what an incredible day I had. There are moments, and it seems like these moments are happening far more often these days, that I wish I could remember far more from my childhood, my teens, my 20's, 30's, 40's.  I want to remember. Yesterday: Saturday, October 8, 2022 early morning walk with Murphy, frost on the grass a neighbor asking where my German shepherd is and having to tell him I had to say goodbye to my beautiful boy the sadness finding me again as I thought about Ado a roaring fire in the new fireplace feet toasty warm in front of the fireplace as I graded papers sitting in the Adirondack chair and drinking a steaming cup of coffee, looking out over the back field the drive to town, the tree leaves changing colors,

The new fireplace is just wonderful. Having a fire on chilly evenings . . . there's something magical about it. A fire offers much more than simply warming an area. It whispers, "Relax. Slow down." The next few evenings and mornings are supposed to be much cooler, so I'm stocking up on kindling and firewood. I have several books stacked on the side table, just waiting to be selected and enjoyed. This time of year is my favorite because it's like I'm given permission to wile away the hours without feeling any guilt whatsoever, and now I can do it in front of a lovely wood fire. Today I cleaned the garden of the tomato, green pepper, and poblano pepper plants. And the basil. I clipped the basil stalk at its base then brought the bushy plant into the kitchen. Its aroma filled the whole house.  I left the lettuce, spinach, and kale in their bed as they are still going strong. Some carrots and beets remain as well. This weekend, I'll sow more carrots and beets