Just A Little Moment

Oh this morning as things really quiet down around the pond and we took an early stroll and the sun and the mist and the stillness and the slight little tinge of antique on the leaves and that reflection and sigh.

Reunion With The Pond

We drove north this past weekend for the first time since October 20! It was so nice to be back to the lake. Minimal mouse damage from the fall and winter, so we vacuumed and dusted, opened the water, and brought home a bunch of stuff for washing. We're thinking about relocating there a bit more permanently to ride out the quarantine and are waiting for temps to warm slightly so it's more comfortable. We'll likely meander that way in the next week or so. I was a little hesitant just thinking about the logistics of shifting our home office setup to the tiny cabin, but we'll figure it out. We're so lucky to have this place, especially at a time like this.

Just A Little Moment

Did some yoga this morning then cozied up under a blanket on the deck to watch the fog drift across the lake and the clouds swim along the sky. A perfect little moment of pause and reflection to start the week.

Life Lately

I'm coming at you from the midst of my favorite season. It wasn't always that way. I distinctly recall despising summer with the wrath of a thousand suns when we lived in New York. Must've been the shoulder to shoulder sweaty subway platforms, stench of sizzling street garbage, pulsing heat radiating off the sidewalks, or hours of traffic blockading an escape to greener pastures.

But now summer is simply sublime. We typically hightail it north on Thursday evenings returning with the setting sun on Sundays. We snuck in an extra day off yesterday, lingering lakeside for more sunning on the raft, canoeing, badminton, cards on the deck, and a long walk along the Cotton Valley Rail Trail. My only complaint is that the season is winding down. The "Pointers" as I refer to the family with the cabin on the point across from us, pulled their raft in yesterday, a tell-tale sign that we're fading into fall.

What the heck!? It seems like just yesterday we were airing out the bunkhouse, inflating the pizza float, and dusting off the deck furniture. This always happens and I always struggle with it. I guess it's not a bad thing since really what it means is that I love the lake and the peace it brings so dearly, so incredibly much, that it is just super hard to let it go.

But let it go we must and let it go we will. But not just yet.

Aging

I've had trouble with my birthday the past few years. Maybe it's the steady creep towards 40 or feeling unsettled in various aspects of life, but turning 37 and 38 were both a struggle. So I was a little trepidatious when 39 loomed at the end of December's calendar. 

It was great! We spent the extended weekend at the lake, our first time up north since early November. Pete and Sille joined us, we adventured to Portland for a visit to the art museum, played a bunch of games, ate delicious food (omg, Simon made sticky toffee pudding and it was spectacular), walked along the Cotton Valley Rail Trail, and took some tentative steps onto what we think was a solidly frozen Round Pond. It was relaxing, refreshing, fun, and peaceful. Getting old ain't so bad after all.

Saying Goodbye

This entire process with Merwin has taught me a number of things, one of which is that no part of it was likely to feel right. Whether or not to treat his cancer, how much to spend on treating his cancer, how many different drugs to try, when to decide to stop trying drugs, when to place that dreaded call to the vet, whether the vet should come to the house or we should go to the vet, and finally, what to do to celebrate and remember the little guy. Every step of the way, we experienced guilt and indecision. 

This weekend my mom was visiting, and we decided to hold a little ceremony for the hound. We had his ashes but weren't sure what to do with them. Neither of us really wanted to keep them in the little box, but we also weren't sure where to put them to best memorialize him.

Our little lake place sits at the end of a long driveway with woods on either side. If one of us said "walk" the dog would be out the door and down that driveway in a heartbeat. A small trail through the woods sits just beyond our house and without fail, he would demand to take the trail, tugging his way over to the path and digging his paws in if we wanted to head in another direction. And finally, upon returning home, he'd pause at the end of the driveway, wait for us to unhook his leash, and issue a "go ahead" command. Then it was like a shot went off as he ripped through the woods on either side, leaping over branches, ripping through leaves, and bansheeing like the best of them. He was so incredibly happy in those places.

This is a long way of saying we felt good about sprinkling his ashes along the woods and the trail. We tossed a couple tennis balls deeper into the brush, recited a Merwin poem from the early days of this blog, and shared a few suitable May Oliver quotes.

It's not him, we'll never have him again, but it felt healing. It felt like a tiny bit of closure. His spirit is around us and every time we arrive at the lake, I'll think of him streaking through the woods, happy as can be.

"Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. We should honor the love of the dog in our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?"

- Mary Oliver

"You may not agree...and you may not care -- but you should know that of all the sights I love in this world - and there are plenty - very near the top of the list this this one: dogs without leashes."

- Mary Oliver