Friday, October 14, 2011
The wind that strips the trees of the last of their colorful leaves is frankly chilly, bringing with it dark clouds. The kiss of the cold on my cheek reminds me of things I haven't thought about for month after naive month - snow, ice, wind, sliding on the roads, sliding on my driveway. The farmers have taken advantage of the ten day stretch of Indian summer to harvest much of the corn and soybean crop and now the fields are prepared for winter with their array of stubble. The puppy shivers, does her business quickly then runs to the door. I don't know how to prepare her for the concept that this is nothing - she was born in warmer climes and has not experienced a true winter yet. Molly, our elderly Golden, on the other hand, stands in the driveway with her nose into the wind and a smile on her face. She has to be coaxed to come inside. I have a moment of de ja vu, remembering another elderly Golden, this one deaf and blind, who stood in the same place years ago, nostrils working, with the same smile on her sweet gray face. What stories does the wind carry to those with the senses to read it?