Suspense aplenty to go around these days not merely locally but internationally. But one has a tendency to dwell on the near and dear, no matter what other issues intervene, large or small. And what's happening to the international community of humanity on this Earth is anything but 'small'
in scope as every country on every continent pulls out all its scientific, economic, social and political stops to attempt to put a halt to a global pandemic.
Though concerns and fears loom large on our near horizon and fill our imaginations with dread, there are also the little things that intervene in our daily lives giving us something else to think about, and the state of the weather is always an attention-grabber. If it's sufficiently inclement even the opportunity to briefly exit one's home for a leisurely stroll -- if one is fortunate enough to live by a forest to breathe its fresh air and marvel in nature's capacity to change, and us with it -- is a blessing.
Still, there are mornings when dawn breaks dull and dismal and this was yet another of those mornings. When you don't particularly care all that much if you get out of bed a little later than usual. Because, let's face it, you'll hear/see/read the news and it's been rather less than inspiring -- because breakfast can wait -- and because it's just so creature-comforting to lie in bed, eyes closed, imagining a different scenario, lulled by the soft warmth of your covers and your companion beside you.
But up it was, and out with the puppies, setting the table for breakfast, showering, feeding Jackie and Jillie, preparing breakfast, hauling in the newspapers, settling down and assuming the day. Which, on looking out at the dim, still-dark exterior, wasn't promising much. Raining, heavily. The temperature at 3 degrees. And then, 2 degrees, and then the rain turned to wet snow. And the wet snow turned to snow, and it snowed and it snowed and it snowed.
There was a morning call from the dog grooming salon about our appointment for next week. It will have to wait. All such appointments have been cancelled for the nonce. As expected. They expressed hope that things would be different by next month, the month following or the month after that. We assumed that would be the case. I had already been thinking back to the time before we had them professionally groomed and I did it myself, shearing their hair, while my husband did their nails, and together we would bathe them. Difficult.
No worries about what to do with the day, there's always lots to do, and do it all we did. Knowing as we did that we had ample time to devote to it, since by the look of things, we needn't plan on allocating an hour, hour-and-a-half to delving into the ravine and trotting through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie. Not this afternoon. Mind, by the time 5:00 pm rolled around, the snow which had returned to rain and then accelerated for awhile, had stopped.
And there was the sun!
Well, Jackie and Jillie don't mind missing a ravine hike. There are other compensations, they can play with one another, rush about the house, attentively harass the succession of birds and squirrels on the porch. Where, the night before, we watched a large, very large raccoon take possession of its space and scoop up the snacks. She was alert to the road at the front of the house, back to us. Every now and then hearing something from the road, and stopping to judge whether it might be something threatening, then dipping her head back down and continuing her snacking. Sounds from the house interior failed to faze her, she has learned to ignore them.
As for Jackie and Jillie, when my husband finally finished everything he had busied himself with all day, and sat on the loveseat in the family room to read a book, that's the signal for Jillie to settle herself beside him, and for Jackie to assume his place on the ottoman in front of the loveseat, and take their afternoon nap. They're exceedingly skilled at that. Especially after their treats, cauliflower florets and sliced apple.
in scope as every country on every continent pulls out all its scientific, economic, social and political stops to attempt to put a halt to a global pandemic.
Though concerns and fears loom large on our near horizon and fill our imaginations with dread, there are also the little things that intervene in our daily lives giving us something else to think about, and the state of the weather is always an attention-grabber. If it's sufficiently inclement even the opportunity to briefly exit one's home for a leisurely stroll -- if one is fortunate enough to live by a forest to breathe its fresh air and marvel in nature's capacity to change, and us with it -- is a blessing.
Still, there are mornings when dawn breaks dull and dismal and this was yet another of those mornings. When you don't particularly care all that much if you get out of bed a little later than usual. Because, let's face it, you'll hear/see/read the news and it's been rather less than inspiring -- because breakfast can wait -- and because it's just so creature-comforting to lie in bed, eyes closed, imagining a different scenario, lulled by the soft warmth of your covers and your companion beside you.
But up it was, and out with the puppies, setting the table for breakfast, showering, feeding Jackie and Jillie, preparing breakfast, hauling in the newspapers, settling down and assuming the day. Which, on looking out at the dim, still-dark exterior, wasn't promising much. Raining, heavily. The temperature at 3 degrees. And then, 2 degrees, and then the rain turned to wet snow. And the wet snow turned to snow, and it snowed and it snowed and it snowed.
There was a morning call from the dog grooming salon about our appointment for next week. It will have to wait. All such appointments have been cancelled for the nonce. As expected. They expressed hope that things would be different by next month, the month following or the month after that. We assumed that would be the case. I had already been thinking back to the time before we had them professionally groomed and I did it myself, shearing their hair, while my husband did their nails, and together we would bathe them. Difficult.
No worries about what to do with the day, there's always lots to do, and do it all we did. Knowing as we did that we had ample time to devote to it, since by the look of things, we needn't plan on allocating an hour, hour-and-a-half to delving into the ravine and trotting through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie. Not this afternoon. Mind, by the time 5:00 pm rolled around, the snow which had returned to rain and then accelerated for awhile, had stopped.
And there was the sun!
Well, Jackie and Jillie don't mind missing a ravine hike. There are other compensations, they can play with one another, rush about the house, attentively harass the succession of birds and squirrels on the porch. Where, the night before, we watched a large, very large raccoon take possession of its space and scoop up the snacks. She was alert to the road at the front of the house, back to us. Every now and then hearing something from the road, and stopping to judge whether it might be something threatening, then dipping her head back down and continuing her snacking. Sounds from the house interior failed to faze her, she has learned to ignore them.
As for Jackie and Jillie, when my husband finally finished everything he had busied himself with all day, and sat on the loveseat in the family room to read a book, that's the signal for Jillie to settle herself beside him, and for Jackie to assume his place on the ottoman in front of the loveseat, and take their afternoon nap. They're exceedingly skilled at that. Especially after their treats, cauliflower florets and sliced apple.
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