waning days

Can days wane? These are the longest, darkest days and I'm counting down now to the 21st when things will slowly begin to turn around again. The reliable rhythm of the seasons again anchors the salty shepherd.

Henry blends into the night. He's still working out his puppy stuff, so sudden bursts of running in circles are not uncommon. Chasing after small animals that are out in the early morning is not uncommon, either, but I'm trying to break him of that. Instinct. It sounds crazy when it's written. But, the training of an eighty pound dog is required and hopefully his second year will bring more obedience and less puppy stubbornness.

This morning on our walk, he stayed close. We walked the perimeter of the field and the sky was just showing some signs of brightness, a lightening of the black. As I reached the top of the hill, a bright shooting star caught my eye and my breath. The stillness of the morning, the crispness of the air - and those unexpected moments that we're blessed enough to experience if awake. Literally and figuratively. As I saw the shooting star, a favorite line from an old song we sang rang in my mind: "stars are for those who lift their eyes." Wishing one and all a peaceful and healthy holiday season.

winter

beautiful baby lowy in her salty ewe lid

December's arrived with brutally cold temperatures and snow. The last few days of November were really cold as well, and even though we won't officially see winter for a few more weeks, it sure feels like it this weekend. But, as they say in Maine, if you don't like the weather then just wait a few minutes. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be in the fifties.

The ocean's been wild the past few days and I can hear it this morning in the house, with all the storm windows down. Granted, they're not the best windows, but still...to hear the waves and roar of the ocean from indoors says something. During Sandy, the dog and I walked down to the ocean and the sound of it was unlike anything I'd heard before. It scared Henry, and he was obviously upset and would not go down to the water; rather, he had his tail between his legs and wanted to head back - and did, with me behind him. It was a deep, deep hum almost. The waves were tremendous, as you'd expect; but, the deep, reverberant bass that the ocean made that day was unreal. An old neighbor of mine said she'd only heard it like that a few other times in her life - and reminded me that my hearing was a lot better than hers. The power of nature stops me sometimes. And, as a cold winter fog hangs in the field this morning, obscuring little wooly beasts that continue to forage through the thin layer of snow, I'm ready to hunker down for the winter.