spring

Spring comes

We have been having the longest winter here in Ottawa. Almost the end of March and still we have copious amounts of snow on the ground and temperatures well below freezing. When I take the dogs out for their morning walk the ritual of bundling them up, then bundling myself up, continues. While there is warmth in the sun, it still battles the air temperature for primacy.

But today in my morning walk  I heard something different. I heard birds. Chattering, singing, making themselves known with a “joyful noise.” When I looked up, I saw three – black-feathered birds – in the very top of a naked tree. Wonder what they were gossiping about? Their cheerful, almost in-your-face happiness lightened my mood. Spring will come.

Abigail

boxers · dogs

Working from home.

House is profoundly quiet, a quiet broken only by occasional airplanes passing overhead or wind gusts. Until, that is, one of the boxers behind me starts howling in his sleep and whorfling after … what? Bunnies? Boars? Glorious martyrdom? (No … I think not, on the last. Boxers aren’t prone to martyrdom, regardless of how many vestal virgins populate the place. Wait … I take that back (and take back the virgins too) because PILLOWS would tempt them. Big, fluffy, comfortable, sink-in-to-your-chin-type pillows. There you have it … Grendel is worfling after a place for him in martyrdom-land.) Now, I wonder, is there is a spot for me …?