The gray sky–low, gravid, and calm–waits to unleash torrents of chilling rain. Despite bundled from such brumal weather, winter chills still slither ‘neath frocks and slickers alike. There is no escape.
And poor Andi. Of late our walks have been truncated due to his sad visage. We only manage to go half way before he looks up at me with pleading eyes, begging to turn around.
I stop, and stoop, and ask, “Well, what do you want to do? Go home?”
And with that one magical word—home—he turns around and leads me back to the comfort of our old house.
Here are a few shots from a month earlier, a time when Andi didn’t mind going the entire distance on our daily stroll. You half expect an Apatosaurus to rear its lengthy neck among the reeds and grass, with giant clumps of fauna dripping from its maw.
Our walks are calm and healing. Only a month ago did swarms of redwing blackbirds squawk and twitter amongst these very same reeds, chattering away unseen.
But now, the bitter chill of November lingers, the kind of day that cannot shake frigid frissons from your shivering body. No matter how many layers, the cold creeps into your bones.
Our cats, not accustomed to sleeping together, have found refuge in each other’s midst, a feline yin and yang. And not to be left out, Andi on occasion will drape a heavy paw over a kitty. (I think Boo simply tolerates this and enjoys the warmth.)
As for us humans, well, we keep this 213 year old house somewhat warm. With plastic wraps around most windows, and having a forced air system, they manage to keep ol’ man winter at bay. As long as there is oil in the tank we won’t allow hypothermia to visit our dwelling.
Thanksgiving is nigh and come Thursday, long travels await us. Let’s just hope those pregnant clouds disappear without too much of a drenching.
Happy holiday to all. May warmth, comfort, and calm be yours.
©Paul Grignon-2013, All Rights Reserved.