It is impossible to describe delight, so the yellow centers face West, into the slanted light.
Seventeen billion tons of wire create an amazing light-catcher.
Today was a somewhat of a roller-coaster day, beginning in the low, dense fog. My spirits floundered in worry, in lonesome. Work was fabulous. Talking with Wayne intense. Driving home I sang with Rosanne Cash and Bruce Springsteen. Let the dogs out for wiggle-time and kisses. Talked to Hilary-the-Life-Saver, who talked me through finding and moving a tiny little lever on the lens of the camera and voila! It works! Life Saved. Call Sarah. Grab leashes. Get in car. Drive one half mile, swerve, stop. Get out with camera. Cross road (look both ways first!). Get down in weeds and click! click! click! Chamomile. Drive on...
Let the dogs out to play with Tahoe the Golden. "They are beautiful dogs!" Sarah calls from the porch at the top of stairs. Emerson now looks like a small, shiny black tank, though he is still shorter than Luna and Tahoe. Annie wants to learn "dog training with Emerson," so we take a walk in the dusk, under streetlights, with Cheerios in our pockets.
Tonight dinner was in stages, no; courses. Thinly sliced seeded sourdough with Brie; Roasted veggies, and a pan of roasted cauliflower(divine); a pile of greens, avocado and sheep feta, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. While all the veggies were roasting, Wayne cracked walnuts, and I put together a Persimmon pudding. It baked while we ate, filling the house with warm, aromatic promise! Of course, lemon sauce! Sometime near 10 pm, Wayne crawled into bed with the cats. He is out.
Kind of quiet. The biggest noise tonight was Wayne laughing, Emerson had crawled into his lap and was snuggling, burrowing into his neck, hanging over the arm of the chair. Gads. The puppy has really grown. He used to fit on our laps.
Uh-oh. A Labrador Lap Dog?
Home from the library: How to Be Your Dog's Best Friend, by the Monks of New Skete, with the top right corner chewed down. Here is a quote, which tells me I am going to like this book:
Learning the value of silence is learning to listen to, instead of screaming at, reality: opening your mind enough to find what the end of someone else's sentence sounds like, or listening to a dog until you discover what is needed instead of imposing yourself in the name of training.
---Thomas Dobush, Monk of New Skete, in 'Gleanings' the Journal of New Skete.