Happy Birthday Sweet Cedar. At 12 years, she is still spry and usually the initiator of Chinook tag games. Yesterday she tagged Trask so hard he did three complete rolls down the icy hill hill then broke through, landing in a large mud puddle. Without being called, all three dogs came running to the door knowing that when someone gets a bath, they all get treats. Soaked and muddy Trask was definitely in need of a bath.
Cedar ready to pounce.
We have had over a week of deep hoarfrost. While those in town warmed to the 40's, the dogs and I enjoyed a winter wonderland. Our temperature never got above freezing and most often remained in the 20's. The ponds had three inches solid ice covering them. Jumping up and down on the dock did not crack the ice but did make some great sounds. I got to share the simple joy of skidding pebbles over the frozen surface with visitors. The thick ice wasn't as musical as ice with varying thickness but none-the-less, a surprising delight to those who had not experienced the thong and tinkle of a rock bouncing along a frozen water surface. The downside of my isolated winter has been no heat for almost two weeks. The geothermal heat pumps had drawn all the warmth they could out of the pond water. Being 6' down in depth due to the drought, there just isn't enough water to supply the demands of the system. The now super-cold water froze creating the pond marimba but no place to warm-up after playing it.
Triumphal Cedar - treat time
Cedar and the other dogs do their best to keep we warm at night. I am swathed so tightly with their warmth and love, rolling over is often a challenge though not a bad trade-off.
Last night it rained hard - first freezing rain them plain old Oregon winter rain. The sound on the metal roof was welcome. This morning the heat pumps kicked into life and the white hoarfrost that had coated every surface was gone. Before the predicted next storm, I rushed outside to mow the final leaves released by the onslaught of ice, wind and rain.
Grief and the holidays are a tough combination. Everything reminds me of something wonderful Dave and I shared. I often find myself idled by overwhelming grief. I tackle huge chores outside to help bring me back into the present. This morning as I looked back over my mowing handiwork I noticed a still frozen patch. It was in the shape of a ghost heart.
I called the dogs to share the wonder.
I have to believe that Dave was sending his love and his birthday wishes to Cedar.
