We were cleaning out the old barn the other day and we found yet another buried treasure there, this old wooden Ginger Ale Box from the Sand Springs Ginger Ale company in Williamstown, Mass. My barns have yielded many wonderful old things, including desks and bookcases.
The old farmers used everything they could get their hands on for everything from tool holders to chicken roosts. We scraped and rinsed the crud out of the bottle holders inside, left the box out to dry. We are thinking of putting the box on the mantle, I can’t wait to see what Maria puts in there, a new kind of gallery in the living room.
On Google, I found a Sand Springs Bottling Co. in Colorado, and references to a Sand Springs Ginger Ale Co. in Williamstown as far back as 1894. It’s been a long time since ginger ale bottles were shipped in a box made like this and there is a Sand Springs Bottling Co. listed there as well.
Exciting to find a treasure like this, buried in all kinds of debris and old straw. We will figure out what to do with it, I can’t wait to see what goes inside it. I’ll share.
Rosemary is the one member of the new Gang of Four who is challenging Red, trying to avoid him, or running in opposite directions. Red is pretty determined when he gets focus, but his strategy is to move the rest of the flock and wait for Rosemary to realize she is alone and then rush back. This morning, on the hill, she refused to move and Red turned back and got in her face and backed her up. I think this is going to be a thing. Rosemary is very strong-willed and does not care to be told what to do, unusual for a sheep.
Up on his hill, Red is the Maestro, keeping an eye on his kingdom, his little sister races around the sheep with great gusto, Red does not succumb to such silliness. From his hill, he can survey the entire pasture, keeping the sheep away from the road, making sure they stay together. If they behave, he will sit contentedly on his hill. if they don’t, he will be on his feet, re-directing things until he is certain everything is in order.
When the weather is cool, it is no longer possible to tire the Pirate Dog out, she can run and run, and then take some water, and run again. We don’t run her all day, border collies can become addicts, but when she is out in the pasture, she races around the sheep and then comes and eagerly stares at me, waiting for the command to to back to the sheep.
I have never had a dog who was so utterly useless and who had so much fun doing it. She is a great spirit, the anti-Red.
This morning, I snuck out of the bedroom the let Maria sleep – she was exhausted last night – and I whispered to the dogs to come along and I crept outside to let the animals into the pasture, feed the chickens, dogs and barn cats. I told Red to go to the top of the hill – I can talk to Red that way – and he did one of his spectacular out runs and took up his favorite position on the crest of the hill where he could keep an eye on his flock.
I sat on the damp hill next to Red, and we just shared this beautiful moment together as the sun came up. This is the way it will be, I thought, I will send Red to the top of the hill and he will watch his sheep, for as long as he wishes. Maybe one or two outruns, no more intense racing around.
We will both recognize where we are in life, and focus on what we can do and accept what we cannot do. For me, I think, an easier task than Red. I can still easily do what I love to do – walk in the woods and on the road, write books and blog posts, take photos, love Maria.
These, I think, up on the hill, are Red’s most precious and contented moments. He would be happy to sit there all day and he would probably starve to death if I left him there and didn’t call him in or feed him.
As I sat on the hill, I was thinking of Rose this morning, another wonderful and devoted working dog. I was thinking of the lessons of life. Life is what you make of it, every single day. You can be grateful for what you have, or whine and lament about what you have lost.
Rose was not like Red, except they were both spectacular working dogs. She was all work and vigilance, nothing else. She had no interest in therapy work, being cuddled, sleeping in bed, getting treats or being told she was a furbaby. She barely bothered to eat. When a lamb was born out in the pasture, she would hear their cries and come and bite me on the arm until I got up. When I fell down, she would nip at my ears until I was moving.
When she was eight years old, after years of grueling work and watching my back, she suddenly began to wither, and then died. Nobody could say why.
Red is more affectionate than Rose, but more in need of human connection. He loves to be cuddled and needed. But he and I rarely cuddle, our closeness is beyond that.
As happens with great dogs, Red and I barely need words, he knows what I am thinking before I do, as I write this, he is curled up behind me, still as a board, when I am done, and get up, he will be at the door of my office, waiting to see where I am going. We are in sync, as they say, beyond consciousness or language.
The vets thought Rose just wore herself out, she had taken so many head butts and kicks, I think her neurological system was damaged in some way. I saw her simply fade away, and I thought then and still think that after Maria came, she knew her work was done and I would be okay, and wasn’t alone.
She could move on, as spirit dogs do, and enter the lives of someone else.
I think Red would do the same thing if I didn’t stop him, it is my job to recognize this, border collies would happily expire rather than retire or whine, but I am in a different place with Red than I was with Rose, and together, we are all teaching one another the lessons of life. And we are sharing the lessons of life, another wondrous chapter for me and this dog.
I am not interested in retiring, writers live off of their heads, not their bodies, but I love my work just as much. I am writing more than ever, and I believe I am writing better than ever.
Like Red, there are things I cannot do now that I could do when Rose was around, that I could do a decade or so ago. When I kneel down to take a photograph, I have to pause and think about just how I will get myself up. If there is no helping hand around, I put my camera down on the ground and push up. My cameras are strong. My legs complain, I look at Maria’s energy and stamina and shake my head. In wonder and gratitude.
I used to walk for hours every day, I can’t do that now. But I can walk for an hour or two, if it’s not too hot or humid.
I am not sick or dying, I am just getting older, like Red. In a sense, I love that Red and I are getting older together, that seems fitting to me.
Sitting on the hill, I felt a wave of different emotions Sadness that Red would not be working in the same way with me – that is an intensely intimate relationship – happy that he will be with me a long time, and in a healthy and meaningful way. We sat watching the great show of Fate exploding around the pasture, and I had the sense Rose was looking down on me from somewhere and laughing at all of us.
Fate always makes me smile. Soon, perhaps, another dog will come and join us.
Red put his head on my knee and I stroked him, slowly and gently. Sometimes I wanted to cry, sometimes I just wanted to be. The next chapter, pal, is just ahead. We will see what life brings us, I can hardly wait.
