I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned the newly graveled driveway. I was grateful for the smooth footing as we walked up it this evening. I’ve lived here for thirty years and had the driveway graveled only once, a long time ago, since its initial creation. Many years of weather took their toll, and it’s been two ruts of big base rocks for years.
I’m so grateful that I was able to afford to refinish it, and grateful to my neighbors for sharing their hired crew. It’s been a pleasure to walk and drive on it for a couple of months now. And this evening, late sun breaking below clouds, a cooling breeze, with a little dog’s nose on high alert, was a moment of utter contentment.
On our ride home from the shelter with Auntie Carol.
Her poor little face when she arrived, having tried to escape cages in shelters.
So thin…
Wren meets Rocky for the first time.
I begin to understand that she will eat anything… horseradish leaves.
Indulge me. I couldn’t help myself. I spent a little time reviewing a year of her photos — maybe a duplicate or two but I tried to pick those that haven’t been posted here before. There’s really no need for words. I’m grateful for our first year together, and wish us many more.
She is proud to have found Biko all by herself for the first time!
Romaine is just about her favorite snack
365 days of multiple hugs, most of them a little inconvenient, all of them welcome.
We know that in some species, genetic expression (epigenetics) can be influenced by events twelve generations back. It’s a helpful perspective in working with ancestral trauma in humans: A simple extrapolation confirms how relevant ancestral genetics can be in comprehending inherited canine traits and behaviors. Today I saw in Wren her heritage from the powerful spitz-type sled dogs of the Arctic, coming from both her Pomeranian and American Eskimo components.
Wren is made of seven breeds. I am still excited and grateful to know this, and have been dipping into deeper research on each of them, and into the origins of those breeds. This gives me a map, of sorts, of the world of dogs, dogs of the world, and learning their histories gives me deeper understanding of the each breed. I’m grateful for a glimpse into Wren’s DNA, the fascinating web of interbreeding it reflects, and the technology at my fingertips to explore the implications.
AKC has short, delightfully informative, videos on many of Wren’s breeds including Pomeranian, which I looked up first, since it makes up nearly half of her DNA. Then I looked up Australian Cattle Dog, twenty percent of her DNA and much of her behavior. Altogether, these seven breeds, and their progenitors, contribute to her physical traits, behavioral character, personality, or d) all of the above. Through exploring them, I gain deeper understanding of all the facets of this charismatic, energetic, perfectly agreeable, eloquently communicative little creature who loves routine as much as I do.
The verdict is in, and it makes so much sense. We knew Wren was part Pomeranian, but wondered about the rest. One of her vets guessed miniature Aussie and came darn close. The Australian cattle dog explains both her speckled feet and propensity to herd the cat, and the deer, and me. I can really see that breed in her. I don’t know much about miniature pinschers but find that part interesting.
As for the Supermutt percentage, I’m grateful I finally have the pit bull I’ve long wanted, as well as the poodle. And I’m not surprised there’s a little chihuahua in her, as that’s what her other half was billed as; nor am I surprised that it’s only a small percentage of her genetic material. She’s never really struck me as much chihuahua.
I’m grateful for the science and the top-rated doggie DNA company Embark that made it possible for me to know more about the little mystery dog that came into my life last year.
“If it’s cute it’s gotta be sweet, and you just can’t have too much sweetness…” or something to that effect, from one of the best films ever, The Talking Heads’ True Stories.
Zoom cocktails with Amy on Saturday, which I tried to upload from my phone but didn’t realize it hadn’t worked. I’m grateful for a spectacular fall color display on Mendicant Ridge and all the mountains around, whether or not I make it up into the high country to drive or walk among the brilliant aspens. I’m content to witness it from the plateau looking up, knowing and recollecting the feel, the scent, the ambience of an aspen forest in fall.I’m grateful for this little imp, and grateful that she didn’t fall off the edge of the deck. Look at that face!I’m grateful to watch the full moon sidle up behind the mountains on a balmy October evening, sharing the moment with my dear friend across the country.
I’m grateful for the intangibles in a day; not to be confused with the immeasurables, but including them. I’m grateful for the feeling of joy of just waking up alive, for the excitement and potential I feel at the end of pranayama class with a beloved teacher and the sense of understanding that passes between us even on zoom; for the joy of teaching and the sincere caring for the students in my classes (and graduates) to whom I can offer some help and guidance in navigating challenging lives; for the sense of humility I experience knowing that I’m just a step or two ahead of them on this journey to peace and contentment in a culture that demands more of us than we can realistically expect to render. I’m grateful for the facets of my life that I experience and treasure every day which cannot be captured in a photograph. Also, I’m grateful for those moments that can be.
I’m grateful for quotidian moments of levity like this Marine cut mullein top.
Today winterizing began in earnest, deep-cleaning the sunroom in preparation for bringing in all the cacti, geranii, potted herbs, and a few peppers that I can’t bear to lose to colder nights. Above, one of the two Datil peppers, which I dug up and potted to bring in so that I can at least have a chance of some ripening. These hot peppers are native to St. Augustine, Florida, and apparently need a much longer season than I could give them here. Below, I also potted up the single Tabasco pepper plant, which took so long to produce blossoms, then flourished; but alas, it hails from Mexico and the US gulf coast states, and also wants a longer season than I could provide. Hoping these two pepper plants, and a little Scorpion that hasn’t even flowered yet, plus one of the Jigsaw peppers, will all thrive in the sunroom for a month or two more, without spawning aphids.
The bounty of unripe peppers on this Tabasco plant made it feel worthwhile to bring in before nights get too cold. Biko will also be coming in regularly at night now, until he decides it’s time to hibernate in the laundry room.
I’ve created a monster! My goal in spring was to have Wren trained by fall to race around the yard and find Biko quickly and consistently. She is doing an excellent job of that, when she can tear herself away from nibbling on the lush green grasses brought up by an extra rainy September. She runs ahead of me checking under sagebrush, rabbitbrush, juniper, and sits down when she finds him. However, when I pull him from his burrow each evening to bring him inside, she jumps at him and follows me, dancing around as I set him down in his indoor spot, then barks and sits down beside him to tell me she’s found him again! In the mornings, she yips and prances until I follow her into the laundry nook where she finds him yet again; each time expecting a treat, of course. And of course she gets one.
I’m grateful that my grownup cat Topaz, whose nose has been out of joint since the kitten adventure, and not quite straight even after three months with Wren, finally jumped up on my lap this afternoon for no reason. She kneaded and purred, and curled up for a short visit as I picked weeds out of her thick fur. Wren got a little anxious about it, and came up to inquire; she and Topaz went nose to gentle nose for a few seconds with no tension. It was sweet. We all hung out for awhile in the shade of late afternoon on the east patio, doing nothing, content to just be. I love these peaceful breaks in the day, where I simply pause, take a time out from the busyness of correspondence, work, dishes, practice, anything, just being in open awareness for a few minutes.
Yesterday’s cucumbers transformed into bread and butter pickles…
…and the leftover pickling syrup poured over lettuce, feta, red onions, and cashews for dinner salad.
Amazing clouds at sunset in all directions: North…
… South…
…and West…
I’m grateful for another full day of mindfulness, considering my values and trying to put them into action. One of my deepest values is gratitude, of course; another is savoring wholesome food and making the most of the gifts I’m given; yet another is witnessing the beauty of this fragile planet. I’m grateful for its atmosphere, what I can experience of it anyway: the clouds above, aridity and humidity, heat and cool as they fluctuate with day and night; and each breath inhaling air here as pure as anywhere. I’m grateful for a friend to spend these precious days with, and the atmosphere of playful joy she brings to everything we do.
I’m grateful for the garden, as always; the bulbing fennel continues to plump up in the perfect combination of early light and late shade.In the right light my friend Deb’s house glows a mile away as if floodlit.
This evening we stepped outside for sunset. The light was that spectacular low, late light after rain, sun slicing along the horizon under a heavy blanket of stratus clouds, air crystalline cool after a long drizzly day. I’m grateful for this wet respite, and grateful for the spectacle of sunset.
As I stood at the west fenceline snapping images, Wren sat and trembled at my left heel, watching horses in the pasture beyond, itching to investigate them. I lost myself for a moment in the clouds and light. When I turned for her Wren had disappeared. I’ve learned not to panic and yell, because she’s never far and she comes instantaneously when called. I’ve never had a dog like that. Even wonderful Stellar took a few seconds to lug his big beautiful body my way. Wren turns on a dime and goes into warp drive when I whistle or call even softly. So I looked around close, and then farther away.
I felt a frisson of fear when I saw those two big white rogue dogs I lost my hearing over, trotting single file through the woods fifty feet away, heading south toward their home, oblivious to me. Then they moved into a lope, and behind them ran my fierce little watchdog chasing them out of her territory! I laughed aloud as they picked up their pace, and when I whistled she turned and sped over to me, so proud of herself.
I’m grateful for Wren, again today. She is full of surprises.I don’t even remember the name of this perennial I planted so many years ago, but this is the best it’s ever looked. I’m grateful for red flowers.
