(Please note: Blogger is still not allowing me to respond to your comments, but I do read them faithfully–and respond to them in my heart.)
Drove to Philadelphia last weekend, to attend the mother of all birthday parties. We saw bare ground for the first time since December, and on Saturday ate lunch in an open porch, without coats, hats, mittens or even sweaters, in the proximity of a hydrangea bush loaded with buds.
We saw a lot of bare ground as we drove back north in a downpour, but in New York state, there was still snow on the ground. The Hudson, which on Friday had been frozen solid, was a soupy mess of ice and water. In the meadows, as the warm air came in contact with the cold ground, the snow appeared to evaporate into a thick white fog. We crossed into Vermont, and I heard a pinging on the windshield: an ice storm had come out to welcome us.
We unloaded the car at the house, glanced at the backyard where for the first time in months a corner of the fish pond was visible, and rushed to fetch the dogs from their B&B before the roads got worse. On the way back, as we turned right by the big dairy farm, the Holsteins cozy in their barn, munching their eternal silage, the car slid gently all the way across the road—hardly a heart-stopping moment, since we were the only moving vehicle in the landscape. By the time we got to the house, the corner of the fish pond had disappeared again.
This morning I let the dogs out while I shoveled a short path for them through two feet of new snow, but all they wanted was to get back inside. They didn\’t like crashing through the ice-crusted snow. They didn\’t like having buckets of the stuff thrown in their faces by the howling wind. They are winter-weary too.
A few minutes later, standing at the kitchen window, we saw a weasel or a fisher (neither is good news) running through the woods in the direction of the chicken house. Wolfie figured out that we were looking at a critter, and started barking. I took him to the back door, said \”go scare it!\” and let him out. In two seconds he was in the woods, and the weasel/fisher was running for his life. Fortunately for the w/f, Wolfie stopped at the invisible fence, where he did some marking, to ensure the critter wouldn\’t be tempted to come back (no pasaran!).
I called him inside and went upstairs to my meditation spot. I unrolled the yoga mat, put down the cushion, sat down in sukhasana. Wolfie lay himself down with his back tight against my legs, and went to sleep.