Here am I, struggling along in my world, and there is the dog, dreaming in hers.

Sitting on my purple couch, working on my next book with my little dog sleeping next to me, I thought, Here am I, struggling along in my world, and there is the dog, dreaming in hers. Where are we both, really, as this little planet where we live, tucked away in an unimportant corner of an unknowable universe, spins on? This is what Henry Beston says in “The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod”: In a world older and more complete than ours, [animals] move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.

~ Eleanor Lerman


Quote Source: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels Photo: Obsessed with Goldens

Truth!

Everyone thinks

they have the best dog in the world.

None of them are wrong.

~ Shower Thoughts


Photo: (via Newthom)

A Glorious Sunday Afternoon

Dogs are our link to paradise.

They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent.

To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring –

it was peace.

~ Milan Kundera


Photo: Amaya Eguizábal with Sitting with the Dog.  Quote: From in The Canine Hiker’s Bible by Doug Gelbert (via macrolit)

Flying Over I-40 South. With Bird Calls.


It’s been 9 months, and we receive a piercing reminder of the only certainties in life: Death and Taxes. Tucked way at the back of the mailbox, sits a single, slight envelope – a bill for the license fee for Zeke’s tags. He’s gone damn it. He’s gone.

Dog tags. Metal to metal, nothing rubbing, nothing jingling. Just nothing.  Inert, they lay in an extra coin jar in the mud room, on top of dirty pennies, dimes, nickels and a few silver quarters. His weathered, leather leash, without him on the end of it, has been stored, way away.  Loose Change. Bone to Bone. Dust to dust. Nothing.

Melancholia saddles up and storms in.

I pull up the covers, and shiver.

It’s Spring. Low humidity. Soft intermittent rains. And nights sleeping with open windows.

With no bird dog leaning in…with no bird dog head nestling, warming my feet, there’s no longer a need to keep windows closed. No need for closed windows to block bird calls, those bird calls which triggered his wiring, which set off that nose, those whiskers, that twitching against the thigh as he adjusts his head to get a better look and better sniff; those same bird calls which would launch this Man’s Best Friend on high alert, jacking up his pulse rate and his innate need to run, to find and to flush. You ain’t running here no more. This Man’s leaning in on himself and falling over.

The window is wide open. A bird call interrupts the dark and the silence. 3:43 am.

Does she sleep? Or like a dolphin, does half her brain shut down, so the other half can monitor predators? How does she wake each morning with a Solo and always between 3:40 am to 3:55 am? Is she singing? Talking? To whom? To Me? About what? Does she sleep in trees? In her nest? Warming her eggs? Singing to her babies as any Mother would? Rock-a-bye baby, On the tree top, When the wind blows, The cradle will rock. When the bough breaks

By 4:10 am, she has wound up the entire neighborhood, and we’ve moved from solo to choir.  Bird song lifts the gates, the silvery light of dawn shimmering – the tide sweeps away the heaviness: Lightly Child, Lightly.  And here it comes: playing in the head on a loop…“Ain’t no passing craze.  It means no worries. For the rest of your days. It’s our problem-free philosophy. Hakuna Matata!”

The bird song reaches a crescendo, percussion, drums, guitars, horns, nature’s perfect harmony dragging my soul – Up, Up, Up.

Circle of Life Brother.

Circle of Life.



Inspired by:

The grief of the failed nest echoes in an entirely different register, but it is still a grief. In Tennessee it’s common for cardinals to nest twice in a season, hatching between two and five eggs each time, but few of their young will survive. The world is not large enough to contain so many cardinals, and predators must eat, too, and feed their young. It should not trouble me to know the sharp-eyed crow will feed its babies with hatchlings it steals from the cardinals, but I have watched day after day as the careful redbird constructed a sturdy nest in the laurel, and I have calculated how many days and nights she has sat upon those eggs, how many trips she has made to the nest to feed the babies, how many times she has sheltered them through a downpour. Day after day after day.

~ Margaret Renkl, from “Springtime’s Not-So-Peaceable Kingdom”, The New York Times · June 3, 2017

Walking Cross-Town. Just make it stop.

Commotion.

Upstairs.

Comey. Russia. Fake News. Senate investigations. ObamaCare. Republicans, Democrats (Rodney: Can’t we just get along?) Hearings. More Hearings. More hearings. Trump. Leaks. Lies. Spin. Frenzy. Russians. Spies. Kushner. Back channels. Flynn. Covfefe. NATO. Kabul suicide blast, 90 dead, 400 wounded, Afghan capital mourns, anger swirls. Hate. Portland Train stabbings. Climate change. North Korea. Saber rattling. Cruise Missiles.  Guns. Missouri man kills 8, suicide by cop was his intention. Manchester. Hillary, blame. Tiger Woods DUI. Kathy Griffin fake Trump severed head (Funny, really?).  Extra policing in Chicago on Memorial Day, violence down, 6 killed, 44 wounded. Ohio sues Opioid drugmakers for unleashing drug epidemic. Yellowstone, rare white female wolf shot illegally. Ivory, elephant poachers run rampant. (Will Man purge them all?)

Is there no place, where I can sit undisturbed?


Photo: via zsazsabellagio.com. Related Posts: Commuting

Karmar Repair Kit 1-4

sleep-dog-rest-cute

1. Get enough food to eat,
and eat it.

2. Find a place to sleep where it is quiet,
and sleep there.

3. Reduce intellectual and emotional noise
until you arrive at the silence of yourself,
and listen to it.

4.

~ Richard Brautigan, “Karma Repair Kit 1-4″ from The Pill versus The Springhill Mine Disaster


Source: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: via Your Eyes Blaze Out

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Source: gifak-net

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Source: gifak.net

Sunday Morning

dog-feet-pet-bed.jpg

There are mornings when the dog is smushed between us.

The sun breaks through the blinds with rays that warm our blanket tangled bodies.

Silent breathy snores, and the low mumble of a fan.

Picture perfect in my eyes.

Simplistic in others.

Too me?

This is the life.

~ Wandering Girl, “No one can take this from me


Photo: via Newton

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Photo by Elke Vogelsang. Don’t miss her Instagram site: wieselblitz or her website: elkevogelsang.com.

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