The river is full of water released from the dam. It's evening, and the yellow light from the day has slipped behind the mountains with the sun. The water moves in a sort of false hurry.
Last week this was a beach.
It is just so beautiful. In less than a month the summer bridge will be removed, the road closed to traffic. The dogs and I still will be able to walk on the river bar. Few people will be seen. Many ducks, herons, osprey, and crows will enjoy the serenity of late Fall and early Winter.
The missing pumpkin/barking dog saga seems to continue. Bimbimbie commented in part, "Isn't it a pity people who are quick to complain about a barking dog in the night don't find out if everything was ok first..." This has bothered me a little this evening. It seems as though we could improve our relations in our little neighborhood way-out-in-the-boonies. Perhaps a little more checking-in, "How are ya?" style.
I feel a little sad that that didn't happen at all. It is not usual that Emerson barks frantically in the middle of the night. I mean, we share this house, and I am a light sleeper, grumpy when awakened in this manner, I would notice if he did this nightly!
Tonight, in the back yard, speaking with Jolee, it came to light that their chickens have been heisted as well, their colorful flock of 48+ Bantams down by over half, with no sign of an animal attacking. Seems that when they are let out in the morning, there are fewer of them. It appears as though we have a poacher at work.
Strange. More will be revealed. Eventually. Or not.
I've locked the front door. I am grateful for my pup with the booming bark, and my attentive Luna. And this too, shall pass.