This gallery contains 4 photos.
Monthly Archives: June 2016
It’s Wednesday (actually now it’s Thursday). On Sunday this big trip begins. Big trips are good except except that once you’ve gone big it’s hard to go back down to a week or two. Just does not seem travel worthy.
So my granddaughter are coming over shortly to get ‘watering the plants’ instructions. Yes. I said plants. After years of being responsible for nary plant, animal or mineral (does the lava I snuck out from Hawaii many years ago count as a mineral?) other then my living breathing self…I have plants. I love having them. I worry about them. Too much water. Too little water. Not enough sun…well that’s how it goes with plants isn’t it?
I’m really panicked just a little tonight about this trip. Just the Greenland part. Which is a cash guzzling/REI dependent mystery at the moment. There are questions of weather and unknown guides and are-we-tourists-or-trekkers? and how will raw whale really taste? and will there be an actual giant ice bergs all about? and can I sleep on a floor with just a mat in a sleeping bag. Thank god for good drugs.
When I return I’m just going to dig up my tiny new apartment-dwelling-size back yard and grow green things and watch every Netflix/Amazon series I’m behind on and spend NO money and eat more vegetables.
For now I’ll finish my New Belgium Heavy Melon beer and eat some dinner spinach with a nice dab, big chunk actually, of butter.
I do indeed love this dog. I do. But maybe kids are easier than dogs after all…Let’s see eight-month old dog…is that the same as about an five-year-old kid. Yeah, okay that explains it. But you can’t explain to the dog that if you get all muddy there’s be no dessert tonight. So here’s album one for today. More to follow…
Probably not such an interesting story unless you are one of Luna’s admirers or simply obsessed with dogs…all dogs.
Luna is granddaughter Patricia most beautiful husky/Australian Shepherd/Border Collie (probably) who is living with me for a week. She’s about eight months old and the prettiest and smartest of all my grandchildren and I do love her. That said I had forgotten how much work goes into being a good dog parent. Back in the day we were, I’m ashamed—or not—to say, much less solicitous. When I was a kid we had farm dogs…not the kind that live in the barn and eat old food or things gone bad…ours were the ones that slept on the couch and ate pretty directly from the table. But they did roam about the fields freely, never had shots, ate the same treats we did (Hershey bars on shopping days) and they usually lived to ripe old ages. And even though my dogs back in the not-so-far-away day had a yard, slept on the couch, and had dog food and lots of table tidbits, they were rarely walked and frequently didn’t get shots (since I was usually on the poor side of that great middle class we often hear about).
Now Luna, on the other hand, has a myriad of shots, pills, regularly scheduled appointments with the vet; pricey dog food, dog treats, dog toys, a giant cage thing, harnesses, leashes, brushes, blankets and special bowls. It’s not all good however. I’m not allowed to give her treats except tomatoes and bananas. Really! Whatever happened to the pork chop bone or licking the chocolate frosting off the plate? Her mom will find out…so I may as well admit it…I did share a peach Activia with her tonight.
Our day went something like this. Luna and I took a short street walk at 5:15am; we drove family to airport for their Hawaiian holiday a little later; we went to work and adjusted the office for max Luna comfort and she made many of our artists very happy by letting them scratch her belly; we went for two relatively short walks in the 96° oh-so-sunny high desert day; we went to the dog park for about an hour and one-half and played.
Luna is very funny at dog parks, initially shy and hanging back; then a few forays toward and around the other mostly older dogs; then back and forths where Luna runs away, circles around, cuts back through the middle of the action; finally she’s front and center in the races, even getting rolled over in one big happy melee which scared me a bit. She is now dirty and exhausted…me too.
There, family on the beach…that’s my report. Tomorrow Luna and I are hanging out at the air-conditioned brew pub up the street and having burgers for dinner with blueberry pie and ice cream afterward.
Maybe the truth is that all this walking isn’t about my health–it’s simply an excuse to play nature photographer!
Forgive me…I had never heard of a single poet except Robert Louis Stevenson until I was in high school. By which time I knew a whole lot of RLS by heart.
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of [her] is more than I can see….
For [she] sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And [she] sometimes gets so little that there’s none of [her] at all.
I don’t love it in the foothills yet. But every place is beautiful isn’t it? Next week back to the Bosque, a new part of it I’ve never walked before. Please let there be ducks and geese.
Or Movin’ on Uptown as we say. I’ve written a bit about my new apartment with which I’m quite happy, especially with my very own bamboo tree/bush/plant? right outside a front window. It’s quiet and pleasant and so forth. However—it’s nearer the mountains than the river. I took a first foray into my new environment this morning, a couple of hours of a Bear Canyon/foothills trek. I was happy to be walking outside again but it’s just not the Bosque and that made me sad. No more ducks and geese enlivening my walks. No water in sight. Only scattered little Piñon trees; no bushes, brush, big cottonwoods. Oh sure, the vista is grand, in a brown-gold New Mexico kind of way, and the early morning air and light and sky have inspired a multitude of painters, and it is completely bugfree. In fact I only saw one single living creature, that one big black bug—a roach cousin I think—who’s managed to make the foothills his lonely home.
I’m going back on Thursday morning with my walking buddy Beth and I will learn to love the foothills. However there are some alternatives like driving over to the Bosque—maybe starting at the north end and doing some round trips or the 10-mile walks I must do to prepare for Greenland. If I have ducks and geese around on alternate walk days I’ll be happy, won’t I?