Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Spring Comes to Hiserville

Spring is struggling to maintain a foothold here in the willy-nillies of Hiserville. The backyard has borne witness to bunches of grackles and crows, a lone song sparrow, a pair of nesting house wrens, a cowbird or two, the usual collection of house sparrows and starlings and cardinals and blue jays, chickadees and a few nuthatches, goldfinches, three mourning doves who have apparently decided that both the yard and the dog are theirs, a hungry goshawk, and a northern thrasher. The grass has resumed its' tortured existence, the tulips and lilacs are blooming, the peonies and road lilies are shooting up leaves and stems, the coral bells have announced their survival of the winter. Bees and ants abound. The crab apple trees have lost their pink blossoms to the wind and the forsythias are budding.

I have lost over twenty pounds since the official start of spring. My worn comfortable clothing is a bit more comfortable these days. The dog has lost a pound and a half. She now shows a well developed muscular gut and defined thighs upon examination. The husband has himself lost weight in steadfast support of my quest to develop a healthier relationship with food. The African Bullfrog has not lost weight nor does he care to. The cats remain two bodies of strong density and excellent physical condition from all their wrestling and charging up and down stairs.

It is time to engage the dog in the first one of several walks. In my mind's eye I behold waves of the little yellow signs which are popping up over the landscape. These particular signs denote that the inhabitants within have paid around a hundred dollars a month in order for chemicals to be applied to their landscapes in order to eradicate random patches of violets and other flora. The dog will kept off of the smelliest lawns since at least one of the ingredients in the mixture can bind with the proteins present in dogs' footpads and kill them off. Indeed, the dog is not permitted to use all lawns everywhere as her personal toilet bowl. The dog has "spots" located strategically near the roadway, and I come equipped with poopy pick-up bags.

Later on the dog and I will head off for the D.O.T. trail along the river. We will inspect the latest blow-down, the progress of trillium and solomon's seals, the shifting sunlight in the forest. We may spot baby snappers sunning themselves on the logs in the swamp, a pair of brave boaters, other dogs out with their families. So delicious this time of year-- this brief interim between bitter cold and black fly season-- in spite of the weather which cannot make up its' mind sometimes minute to minute of how to be.

Fingers fly over the keyboard while a dog snoozes in the yard happily. The cats are napping in baskets near the window. Someone outside is mowing. The computer repeats its' endless refrain, advising that all is well within its' mechanical soul. The wooden chair feels hard. The body is still. The toes curl and the feet are ready. I hit "save now" and then "publish post", "sign out", x, "shutdown". The dog waits for the adjustment of harness and lead. The reader is left with no moral and no astonishing earth-shattering insights here. I hang the lanyard with the house key around my neck, adjust a tie on one sandal and we are gone.

sapphoq and canine friend