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Eye of December
Another newer wrinkle of our annual tradition in what has evolved into the month of Christmas, we escaped to the Beach House for the weekend prior to the actual holiday. Just Nissa and I with our pets, went to get away from it all and make peace with the season. This is a nice, quiet, uneventful time to unwind and reflect in our place of refuge, sort of ‘the eye in the storm’ that is December. This last time Sarrah was clingier and wanted to sit in my lap, many times. She wanted to do this often in her early years, but with wiggly youthful restlessness. Now she wanted to be still and press her forehead against me, perhaps bonding in reflection. I wonder if there was a tear in her eye.
Looking …Back
“Expect to meet…
“Expect to meet a lot of readers, many of them vulnerable, if you write about your dog dying” —Matt Love
Snow!
Despite her lack of cold weather fur, Sarrah excitedly danced in our rare snow. Many years, we do not get any snow near sea level. Some winter’s we get a trace, others an inch or so as we did for Sarrah’s first, possibly instilling a lifelong zest for snow play.
On extreme occasion we get Buried with several inches, those heavy snowfalls were delightful, for Sarrah. Her eyes got bigger; she made whimpers of excitement, when we finally got outside she would buck and bounce, jumping into the thick of it. I used the longer leash, usually reserved for parks and beach walks, extending a fifteen-foot roving radius of restrained freedom for galloping through yards. Like a kid off on a snow day I would bundle up and head out for the best, to turn her loose in the backyard to run, roll, dive and play. She would gallop through the thick bright white fluff and occasionally stuff her nose into it, snorting with excitement. It seemed that the huge fluffy flakes were her favorite kind, when the opportunity to get out into it came falling, we did.
Sarrah discovered regardless of the amount of this mysterious cold illuminating white stuff, it only stays here for a few days and then as quickly, it goes… away.
Pirates
Frost
Regardless of what the calendar tells us, our winter weather shows up (or doesn’t) when it feels like it, displaying another perk of living with our northern marine air. During this time of year most things have a steel grey tone as the night takes a larger portion of the day and the sun often fails to shine through. Even our evergreen plants seem darker, lacking in their color. The once bright signs of Fall lose their color and clump into soggy piles of last years’ leftovers in the corners, becoming dreary coverings of decay and dormancy.
In the lower elevated, more populated areas of the Pacific Northwest we tend to be cold and often damp. But on occasion, ready or not we have freezing temperatures and wake up to a bright fresh glazing of frost. Sarrah discovered this crunch of frozen grass under paw to be a treat, loving to run with her nose right on the sparkling tips of the frosted blades. Consumed with excitement by the mischievous spirit of Jack Frost tickling and tingling her snorting nose she would gasp for air while zigzagging the leash, dragging me around the block. This annual random occurrence under the glowing streetlights was always good fun and warmed me with a smile.
“A dog is a bon…
“A dog is a bond between strangers.” –John Steinbeck
‘Twas the Season…
‘Twas the season… earlier, yet again. Sarrah and I enjoyed another ‘ever encroaching’ season for our evening walks to be lit by the sporadic houses participating in multi-colored Christmas accents. Though I do not adorn my house with lights, I do make an effort to appreciate the works of those who do, Even if they insist on doing this further into November. This year the lights seemed more special, so we varied our route and changed things up a bit to see and experience a little more. Much like a movie, on our quiet evening walks my mind took me back through many of Christmas seasons of the past, most bright and delightful, some a little less, but all memories worth having. I typically have more of a seasonal chaos and yearend stress induced ‘Bah, Humbug’ attitude around this time of year. Even after the excess commercial nonsense and profiteering junk is scraped off, Christmas is still a bittersweet holiday for me.
The Holiday Season
As the year winds down, festivities compress what time remains. The usual events, rituals and traditions combine to make the last couple of months blur into a final season. I am grateful that Sarrah was able to be here for ‘The Holiday Season’, one more time.
Sarrah was part of my increasingly favored holiday and our recent annual tradition of gathering at The Beach House for a few days around Thanksgiving joining; us, my parents Esther and Stan, Nissa’s mom Gail, the cats and our beach neighbor friends Mike, Lori and Jessica for another extended weekend of giving Thanks. We individually gather and stay there for a few days, making the holiday more about being with family and friends than just an over planned annual meal. It seems the added time in this place allows the traditional stress to dissolve and the true flavor of giving thanks takes over. Sarrah was part of it all; inhaling all the smells of the cooking feast, scoring human food snacks, walking with her toes in the sand, barking orders at cats, collecting affectionate pats from all and constantly reminded me to be thankful. This year the quiet moments were a bit heavier and at times a little saddening, but moments like these helped me remember and define others.
Can Bryan Write? 