Thu. Sep 28th, 2023

misty morning

I love my unhurried mornings here on the farm. As much as I groan when I am called from bed by the cat, or dogs, the ducks honking to get out, or inevitably my personal need for the little room, once I am up the magic seems to work its way over the loud chorus of achy back and stiff joints.

It rained most of yesterday evening and last night, so beyond the normal dewy wetness I knew I’d need my boots. Pete and Pickles, Beagles whose short legs lift their bellies only about 4 inches off the ground, seem immune to the cold, wet grass.

The trip up the hill, which I had never made before these guys came into my life, is always inspiring. I would love to have a tiny cabin up there, and to enjoy my morning coffee watching the sunrise bring morning to the valley and the distant hills.

The dogs are ecstatic. They run and pull, jumping along through the tall grass, their noses snuffling a mile a minute. It always amazes me how much farther the dogs go then I do.

Lil” Girl who was able to run free at the old farm, would loop me by miles. Walking in the woods at my Sister-in-Law’s place in S.C. she would disappear into that 100 acre woods, loping up and down into the creek beds, showing up like a ghost in the distance just about the time I would grow worried about her. I learned not to worry about her if I turned for home. She would inevitably appear on the trail ahead of me before I got there.

I miss that freedom to just walk, to share the woods at a distance with my canine companion. The woods are much smaller here, and the neighbors are closer. The Beagles seem to stay in a much smaller arc, closer to home, but the politics of dog ownership is much more citified and I don’t believe some of the neighbors would let roaming dogs roam. So for now anyway I am mastering the Dance of the Leashes, steering when I can and twirling square dance style as they ride the swells of fragrance wildlife leaves behind.

At the end of the dance, arriving home with my pants wet to the knees and the dogs wet all over. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tantalizes my nose. The dog dance becomes intense and rapid as they await their biscuits. Sinking into my rocking chair, feet up, the sweet, hot brew warms me body and soul, and snoring, happy dogs, sing to me from their bed.

By AFarmer

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