Tag Archives: dog

Pictures rather than words

14 Oct








27 Aug

A couple early mornings have been still, hot, and humid.  On those mornings one can smell scents usually not available to the human nose.  Or at least my human nose.

On the house end of the hedge row there was the sharp acrid stink of a skunk.  Hmm.  This animal was scented down near the house a few nights, too.

The rank smell of some canine; fox? coyote? was up on the far end of the lane way, where piles of poop are occasionally left.

While walking two rows in on the north long edge of the corn field, holding up an arm to shield my face from  two corn leaf layers that are just at neck and head height, admiring the cathedral-like aspect and contemplating that at Hawthorne’s height it would be even more cathedral-like since the arches would not smack one in the face, I walked into a pool-like scent arena filled with the dusky smell of buck deer.  Had one or more been sleeping in the corn?  Or eating?  Or hiding?

Wednesday night was warm and still and clear when we arrived home from a meeting.  The stars in their myriads were bright in the blue-black sky.  The milky way, that highway of stars, was stretched in a curve across the vault of the sky.  Depths upon depths of stars were visible.

Later on, about 3.15AM, we were woken by a tremendous tearing explosion of thunder.  Outside it was still, not the faintest breeze stirred.  And warm.  But high above our earthly layer a big storm moved by fast, shattering the peace of the night, eventually dropping a quarter inch of rain.  The thunder and lightening went on for a good 45 minutes.  A slight breeze came up towards the end but by morning all was calm and warm and wet once again.

During that storm, Hawthorne needed attention.  Not only did the thunder upset him, he was vomiting.  Grass eating and vomiting continued until late Thursday.  He just will not stay away from the fallen corn the deer are pulling off.  Corn cob chunks can cause nasty obstructions in the intestinal tracts of dogs.  This afternoon he continues to lie down and sigh.  No food.  No water.  We have prayed for him.

Pounce slunk (is that the past participle of ‘to slink’?) upstairs and hid under our bed.

Now it is Saturday:  Thursday evening I started scoping out veterinarians who still do exploratory surgery on domestic pets without the extras many vets now think are warranted and which essentially treat the animal on the level of a human.  We do not fell at peace having a complete blood work-up, scans, and x-rays and, and, and…  Kept praying, asking for God’s mercy.

Friday morning Hawthorne was weak but went outside with me.  His urine was the color of dark buckwheat honey; scary, but there was no blood in it.  And then he slowly walked up into the field; the leading edge of his poop: a hunk of corncob with corn still attached.  He was lighter on his feet after that but after a walk and eating slept most of the day.  Thanks be to God!

Today he is himself.  We walk together now, with him on a leash until I can either buy or make a muzzle that will keep him and his beloved corn cobs apart.

This Week’s Catches

22 Jul

There have been lots of catches this week.  Here are some of them.

Lots of frogs were caught over at Dad’s pond.  But also caught was this year old painted turtle.  It resides in the water barrel here at home now, being fed worms and insects and flies.
It left at least 8 of its friends or family to travel here.

The girl decided she was going to catch this wildish kitten at the cousin’s farm.  And she did after two tries.  I kept its attention while she snuck up on it. Daddy said we could not bring it home.  It is skinny as well as being cute.

He gave her some scratches then howled incredibly miserably when he was first caught.

And seemed glad to be released back to his lair.

At the next cousin’s home some neighbors were exercising their horses in the 25 acre pond. Here the Belgian draft horses are swimming.

One thing the girl has wished for a long time is to ride a swimming horse.  She was able to have that dream fulfilled.

The mare really liked to swim and when she had to stop and visit would splash impatiently to get back into the deeper water.

Then of course there was the mess o’fish jay and I caught.

And yesterday I caught this woodchuck who had the temerity to think it was going to live under my front porch.  Not for long.

Hawthorne wished he had caught the woodchuck. It was fortunate, though.  Jay took it down the road several miles to abandoned fields, where the coyotes might find it for supper.

First June Days

2 Jun

Can you recall how hot and moist and calm you are after a tortuous sob?  Yesterday morning was like that. Perhaps that is why fifteen red efts were out strolling on the edge of the corn field.   Perhaps that is why the orchard grass in the shallow grass sea decided to release its pale golden green pollen in small dense clouds as one passed.  Or maybe it was to remember my brother who is now planted like a seed in the ground was born that day 51 years ago.

A stiff breeze brought cool, dry air over the night.  This morning there were no efts, and little pollen.  Though in the background of the blog you can see a slight haze as the wind whips the grass to release whatever pollen is left. Pounce decided to come with Hawthorne and me. He only wished to be carried a few times.  And only for a short while.  There were fewer dragonflies.

Can you see Pounce?  He is all business on walks.  Except when he is complaining about being left behind.  While I accompanied him (read–he walks slowly) Hawthorne was off running and exploring.

The clouds were playing tag and racing across the fields after each other, dark, light, dark , light.  I used to chase them, or run from them,  across the hay fields.  The corn is up in the last field.  The beans in the garden are up.  The deciduous peonies are opening.

We walked through the dry grass sea.  We made bed nests in it.  Really, a mature orchard or timothy grass field is the best place to hide if you do not wish to be found.  I used to do it regularly as a child.  Still do on occasion.


The perennial and annual poppies are popping.  The lupines are out.



Snow and Sew

25 Mar

Since it has been snowing I have been sewing.  All the circles for the big quilt are done.  Now must cut out the interstitial pieces and join them together.  Pounce was too lazy to move and so is helping in a quick display:

Something starting with H found the carcass of the grouse that was not-too-successfully hidden under the tens of bushels large raked pile of chaff from the lawn and threw it around until finding some other smell more interesting.  It is up high in wild cherry tree branches now, like an Indian burial.  Except the crows may find it there.

This morning the gray-green background of hills covered with pines and cloud below, a bright mild face of spring sun peeping from her gray cloud scarves above served as backdrop and illumination for the dropping air dance of a host of shining snow sparkles.  A happy dog ran back and forth in the diamond shimmers; dead brown remains numerous small markers of last summer poked up from the white and crystal speckled snow.  How is it that such simple sights enlarge my heart to bursting for their beauty?

This and That

12 Mar

Snow again.  But it melted by the late morning.  The basement rivulets are slowing down.  The school musical “Seussical” started Thursday and runs through this evening; four performances in all, two today.  Since track also started this week Isabelle has been busy.  She is playing violin in the  small orchestra for the musical.  Which is very well done. The pale blue hair of Miss Gertrude McFuzz is so fetching I am entertaining the notion of discussing with my friend Deanna, a hairdresser, if it is possible to change mine to that color.  Or should I wait another three decades?

Jay cut some wood and swept the roof. (Yesterday) I raked and carted 50 gallons of spruce tips and cones from a small part of the lawn. (Today again) Isaac played frisbee in the mud.  I ferried the daughter.  And sewed and cooked.  And went to class with Hawthorne.  Jay was unable to catch us when we were doing something interesting, but here we are:

Hawthorne like jumping through this today, the first time he had seen it. Yes, he and Jay both had hair cuts.

Tomorrow is Jay’s birthday; steak, mashed potatoes, salad, broccoli, and angel food cake for supper.

Time changes tonight; we spring ahead.  The weather is also changing; have decided the quilt for our bed must be sewn at a faster pace so it can be completed before it is too nice to stay inside.  Have calculated that 8-9 pieces per curve times eight curved sections per block times eight more blocks: 544 small pieces needed!  And about 70 more larger pieces, not counting edging strips.

Jay and I have been watching and enjoying  Foyle’s War .


A White Lion

7 Mar

Snow melted all Friday.  Jay had friends over that evening, and when they left the temperature had risen to over 5oF outside.  Saturday the melt continued.  Hawthorne got so hot during class and afterward that Jay and I agreed I would shear him this week. His is a winter coat and for the cold; above 40 degrees, he is too hot.  I shear him at least three times a year.

Sunday morning it was pouring rain; it had rained all Saturday night.  I had to leave for early service so Jay took Hawthorne for his walk wearing full rain kit.  I thought how happy the chickens would be on the grass under the trees when put out after we came home.  The driveway was totally clear of ice and snow, and muddy.  The creeks were roaring; ice dams forming here and there.  The snow was diminishing.  I could see the top leaves on the eldest hellebore.

On the drive to church the rain changed to ice pellets.  But coming out two hours later:  snow (Snow?!) being shoveled off the church sidewalk.  I had on a light coat; not even a hat or mittens. It had been 40F when I left home! Now a snowplow was at work in the parking lot.

Drove to Ellie’s, changed clothes.  We were to drive to Kathy’s for a get-together of spinning chums.  I had spent a few hours Saturday afternoon making mole (say molay), and was so looking forward to spending time with friends I do not see often.  Shoveled the walkway.  Turned around and wondered if it had really been shoveled.  Monte went out for salt. “I didn’t think I would need any more”!  More shoveling.  The snowplow went by their home twice.

When we left for Kathy’s there were almost 2 inches and counting.  The roads were–not good.  A snowplow went by on the other lane and within a mile there was no way to tell that that side of the road had been plowed recently. Within five miles of our goal, Ellie found a flat parking lot and we turned around and returned to her home.  We ate ambrosia and mole with chicken and corn tortillas for lunch.  I waited for Jay to return home from late service to tell me how bad the roads were out our way.  And to shovel the driveway.   Home about 3.30PM.

It kept snowing.  All night.  Into this morning.

And out the window of our bedroom this morning.  A two foot wide snow lip hanging over the roof line.  Where there had been running water yesterday morning.

Oh, and downstairs?  This:

A bird feeder with a hat.

No school.  Jay called at 8 after he got in: little traffic; he saw people trying to dig their cars out of their driveways full of snow.   Only a quarter of one parking lot had been plowed.  The sidewalk plows at Cornell were stymied, too; the snow was too deep for them.  He fought his way through snow to BTI, through drifts to open a door.  He was the only one there.  Four foot drifts up onto the greenhouse windows.   Twenty-one inches of it reported near here.

It was over my boots on the way to the garage.  Way over.  Wearing snow shoes I only sank down five or six inches instead of 15+.  Hawthorne pretended to be a dolphin, using snow for sea.  Only his back and hind legs were visible when he dug down to the ground.

At the bottom of his prints were icy blue shadows tinged with gray. As if  bits of the blue sky and the gray cloud were snared and carried down trapped in the snow.  The wind was strong enough remove most of our tracks inside ten minutes but traces remained for the return trip, the sharp inside edge that escaped the filling snow a sharp beautiful gray-blue.


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