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Winter Walking
The Pacific Northwest offers dampness in the longer evenings, the kind that makes bones ache a little, in the aged and the damaged. These cold night walks were my least favorite, but also became part of our routine. I found that ending each day with a stroll does let mental junk settle and unwind springs. Living near the Puget Sound often brings moist cool marine air induced fog. This heavy, thick, ‘cotton like’ mysterious air requires a little more caution when walking amongst distracted moving vehicles, due to poor visibility as it shrouds depth and changes perception. Sarrah and I typically walked three times each day; we experienced all flavors of the weather that come to the Pacific Northwest. Some varieties were appreciated more than others, but we grew to enjoy all of these experiences, together.
Angel
A little dog lives on a shelf near my kitchen window, the rectangle of glass that I stand in front of while I wait. Waiting for coffee to drip, food to cook and often be eaten at the sink underneath. The main window where I quietly watch some of the world pass on by and think or try not to.
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Coffee cups, Calendars and Pictures are some of the Pop Culture commercial products that turn into gifts when you walk down the path of life with a pet.
Before Sarrah’s first Christmas She was given her own ornament.
Initially I thought this odd little white dog with black spots, beige and brown wings, a gold wire halo and string to hang it was strange, a dog ornament for a dog.
As newness of these trinkets wears off, they blend into cupboards, shelves, walls and some boxes along with the rest of a person’s possessions. Quietly these items are not really even noticed for a few years and then they become souvenirs of a life.
The little Angel Dog that I once thought odd came out for Christmas 2010 and never went back.
Pals
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
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
The Man in the Maze
Where do I go from here?
The Tohono O’odham people cherish the symbol of I’ITOI, the Man in the Maze. I have seen this symbolic artwork many times on trips to southern Arizona. It is of a man standing at the top of a circular tribal looking maze. However, it wasn’t until my daughter Heather sent me a postcard from there did I possess one nor know the meaning (thanks to the brief explanation on the card). Basically the symbol depicts a life; starting at the top following the path, acquiring knowledge, strength and understanding, nearer the middle one reflects back on wisdom gained as they move closer to the end in the center. Initially she and in turn me were attracted to this one because the symbol is black on a white card, (I have long favored the illusion and absence of color).
I saved it and a couple of years later, while writing my story of Life with Sarrah more of the meaning found me. Keeping it in the binder, I look at it often.
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.
Can Bryan Write? 