Getting Mowed

June 25

(One hell-bent dog)

Same spot, one week earlier.

(Same hell-bent dog)

Birthday Bill

Bill: 1941

Bus: 1968

Dear Bill,

Impossible. Amazing. I can hardly believe you are 70 today.  Seems so ancient grown up.  I'm so impressed by this that I'm trying to think if I even own anything that's from the same era.  Most of the time you act like you're about 26 but then when we talk and you try so hard to impart all that wisdom on me, I remember your true age because you can't hear a thing I say.

You, in that wild bus of yours, have been traveling all over the country these past few months, retracing your steps of the past 70 years, across many thousands of miles and almost as many oil changes.  Your itinerary still hangs on the refrigerator door but your postcards and letters reveal that this has been as much a journey of the heart as it has been of highways. I can imagine the stories you have to tell, and the people you have seen again. They have their own funny stories about you, no doubt.  I think it must take some courage to travel back so far--to see all the places and people again, to stand before the memories and speak...or listen.  When I squint my eyes, the map of your trip looks like a variegated tapestry, the loose ends now woven in to place by each stop you've made.  You've sewn the patches all together and today with your children and grandchildren, you are wrapped in your most precious threads.  I know those are tears of joy, dear friend.

I brace myself look forward to your return so that we can sit at the counter for one of our meetings and eat my thin, runny yogurt and drink strong coffee.  It's my turn to set the agenda--you did it last time and the time before that.  I have so many questions to ask but for starters, I would like to know about the things you didn't expect, and about the things you had forgotten.  What was your funniest moment, and what made you cry?  How were you changed by each encounter and what landscape stirred you the most?  What tools were the most useful and how did you pace yourself? When did you seem to crawl along and when did time fly?  What mattered?  And what didn't?

And then after that Bill, I want to hear all about the trip.

Happy Birthday, Old Man Dear Bill.  

I am very glad we'll be your next stop.  

Lub,

A.

PS.  You can't teach an old dog new tricks.

My Sister Avery: Class Act

My sister is the best teacher I know. Avery's devotion and energy is unparalleled.  I not only marvel at her ability to go to the nth degree, but also her passion for doing so. There is no doubt that she has expanded the hearts and minds of her students and they are very fortunate to have shared the joy of learning with her. Tally up the camping trips, the morning cafes, the llama-feedings, the pet snakes, and all the other energetic projects she has brought to the classroom, and it's easy to imagine the brilliantly woven tapestry of memories her students must carry.

And for those of us who know her outside the classroom, we know she brings that same energy, passion, and thoughtfulness wherever she goes. If you know her, you absolutely love her for this. Today, in the humblest of ways, she taught us all about dignity and character. It was truly a class act.

The world is now your classroom, dear Avery, and the lesson goes on.

Mercy Freaks

Mercy gets a gold medal for running off-lead through the woods.  She stays fairly close and comes most of the time she's called. She wears a cowbell to warn others of her approach and to let me know if she's still in the same zip code. For walking with a leash, however, she gets maybe an honorable mention at best.  I decided it was time to rein her in and teach her some leash manners.  Typically she spends our leash walks bulldozing forward, all fours scooping, no, gouging into the pavement while she gasps and chokes, attempting to lengthen her neck and my arm by 12 or 14 inches.  I spend the time being dragged all around and making spitting sounds (I thought she would be intimidated by them....but, no...).  I decided to switch us over to the Gentle Leader which is designed to prevent dogs from pulling on the leash and to help wimpy owners take command.  Here's how it went:

Refusing to walk

Pretending she doesn't know, see, or hear me....

Attempting to chew her way to freedom....

Eventually, she caved in and began to walk like a very nice dog.  We seem to have the problem licked.  Now if only I could take the thing off and get her to wear it....

Passing North

Columbia, NH

We hit the road yesterday.  I didn't know the definition of north until we started driving.  I used to think Concord, NH was pretty far north.  Ha.  Turns out Concord is practically in the tropics.  But it was a fascinating trip.  The plan was to travel to the birthplace of Pam's mother and grandparents, and to see what we would find there.

For me, it was a chance to see the north country and get a glimpse of rural life.  We drove so many miles, winding our way through the mountain passes and between the Notches, rarely passing cars, houses, or pedestrians.  The mountains and valleys were breathtaking, and a little daunting. It takes as long to get out of there as it does to get in! Political activism is alive and well in Northern New Hampshire as we passed many signs protesting the Northern Pass (Kiss My Ass, Live Free or Fry) Project.  I saw my first moose (so he was dead, but it still counts...), and I experienced what seemed to be the edge of the earth at 50 mph on the Dixville Notch State Park Highway. My stomach is still reminding me...

Moose Alley

What I treasured most was the way Pam pointed out childhood landmarks and scenes from her mother's childhood.  It was an important trip, and we found Mary's home and dairy farm, cruised the streets of Colebrook and had a lovely lunch at Howard's, the place where Pam's parents met years ago.  The highlight was the cemetery where Pam's grandparents are buried.  It took only a little hunting before Pam found her family's plot. With a gentle breeze and the scent of lilacs, it was a lovely spot and quiet moment.

The best part of this entire adventure was the conversation that wove its way from mile marker 22 (roughly) to mile marker 874 (yes, an exaggeration) where we practically kissed Canada (but not quite), and back again to mile marker 22.  We spanned everything from Mary's childhood to our own aging bodies and mortality. The day passed quickly and we laughed or sometimes said nothing. In a solitary lifespan found in the solitary northern wilderness, companionship became the highway.  I have an amazing friend. It will always be one of my favorite days.

Henry and Pooh

Getting to know you....

Henry

Pooh

Meet my new friends, Henry and Pooh.  Henry is the little guy who runs the show and Pooh is the big guy who does whatever Henry says.  They are both very cautious and nervous so I am slowly building our relationship by stuffing my pockets with treats and being very mindful of my approach and stance.  We've gone from keeping a cautious distance to belly rubs in a matter of days.  Today we crossed another big hurdle when Henry allowed me to take his collar off of him.  Rumor has it that he has a little "freak-out" with the collar routine but today I joined Henry's somewhat exclusive Collar Club when he allowed me to touch it.

I am smitten, of course.  I love meeting these personalities.  No two are alike, and each one is like a mystery novel.  I love cracking the code. Next week's challenge?  Getting Henry to come in the house when the cleaning crew is there....

   

Speaking of "freak-out", uh, did I mention how Mercy handled her new harness? 

No?  

Next blog.

Spring Snow

Artemis and I were in the woods on Friday and as we came around the bend at the beaver pond, it looked like snow had fallen.  It was a very eery and beautiful sight.  The woods never fail to surprise and delight us.