We took the dogs on the path in the woods at dusk and I have been struggling to figure out how to capture the feeling of the woods as the last light of day comes streaking through the canopy, touching some trees and some leaves as with a magic wand. I got closer to it tonight that I have before, but still working on it. Photo Album on Facebook.
When you live with Maria – I am very lucky to live with Maria – beautiful things appear on windowsills and frames. I never see her put them there, and I never see her remove them, I just look up and see something that personifies grace and affirmation. I think of this flower as reaching for the sky, as I am reaching for the sky. I met someone tonight who was telling me about all of the money he had in the bank, and he was going to buy a boat this summer and take his wife on a sail down the coast for a month, and then find a house on the coast of Maine to buy and live in. I did feel a pang of jealousy – I would love to do those things for Maria as she would perhaps love to do them for me.
But then I thought of my life and despite the turns in the road, I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for time anywhere else or make any different choices for a million dollars. I’d love to have a boat but I have also learned you don’t need a boat to be happy. I am just as happy walking with Maria and the dogs in the woods, just as excited by our plans to weed and hang around together and go get some Vietnamese food in Williamstown, Mass. That is a big lesson for me, and I have learned it. I wish my friend a good trip, I hope he is happy. It sounds wonderful.
Frieda in autumn is a different dog that I met five years ago. She is still vigilant, still a hunter, still a watchdog. But we have grown much closer and easier. Several times a week, I go up to the top of the hill across from the farmhouse and after walking a bit, Frieda and I sit down and take in the sights and sounds of the woods. She is still alert to any sound or movement – that is how she survived life in the Adirondacks I suspect. When I tell her story, people always say “oooh, poor girl,” about her time in the Adirondacks, but if you know Frieda, you know she probably loved it and was in her element. She still bears watching. Frieda and I have come to love one another and she is almost as affectionate to me as she is to Maria. Some people have known Frieda for years and she won’t let anybody else touch her. Frieda in autumn is a dignified gray lady.
Chickens at rest.
