Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The little old dog is lying at my feet, sleeping. It is one of the pleasures of his life as he copes with being both deaf and blind.
Old age is upon him, and he moves more slowly than he did even just a few months ago. Still, occasionally he waves his tail like an eager flag as he proceeds Husband and his cart down the road.
It is difficult for him to locate the direction of a voice, calling to him, and he is startled by sharp sounds and things that go snap in the night. I see the bewilderment in his face. and in the hesitation when he turns the wrong way, - away from familiar paths. He is developing independent ways as he copes with this strange new world of shadows and diminished hearing.
We are careful to be patient and loving.
My heart catches when I see him favouring a cool damp spot in the garden to make a comfortable bed, as so many of our dogs have done before him as they looked for comfy places to nap in their old age.
He has been with us for thirteen years, and we were all more lively when he first came to share our lives and met up with Mr. Jake.
Nevertheless, life is still good, - interesting and challenging.... And Husband and Dog and I all treasure our days together, with Cat around to keep us on our toes...
Patience is our watchword ...........
Monday, May 26, 2008
Monday morning, and the Cawston hills are an indistinct blur through the sheets of rain. Welcome rain, - always, in this semi desert valley that requires spring showers to turn the hills a tender green, if only for a few weeks. The air is at once heavy with moisture, and yet fresh and invigorating when Caspar and I go walking this morning. Me with an umbrella, - he, requiring a good toweling when we come in. I feel the plants in the garden sighing gently as they absorb the welcome moisture.
The spiney dragon's tail that stretches eastward from K Mountain stands out against the grey clouds that occupy the valley.
This was to have been 'planting pots' day. Our Sunday drive after church yesterday included a short visit to the greenhouse. Husband was magnanimous in stopping in front of this most dangerous of all establishments where the wallet is concerned. However, I suspect that he felt his presence waiting in the vehicle out in the parking lot would curtail the expenditures.... he doesn't know what a fast shopper I am. Especially when I have been making lists for the last three weeks.
He will retire to the garage to advance his organization of the accumulated tools and treasures, frustrated in his mowing plans but blessed in this opportunity to create order ........ I will find a spot to pot up the plants that I scooped yesterday.
Monday mornings can be invigorating in the most pleasant ways. The stress of the weekend has dissipated and the days stretch out, filled with empty hours, waiting to be filled and fulfilled.
This past weekend saw the culmination of all the piano practicing I felt was necessary to accompany a bell solo at Music under the K. Music under the K is a wonderful annual event which involves school bands from all over the province, visiting musicians, local talent and a great influx of students and music enthusiasts. A festive air in the village, echoing music from a dozen different venues.
Our Handbell presentation took place in the Church, - noted for its acoustics as well as its holy usage. On Sunday we did a repeat performance, taking part in the morning service of Eucharist.
The Prayers of the People ended with the following words, - a portion of a modern hymn written in 1988 by Shirley Erena Murray, with traditional music by C. Hubert Parry (1897).
'Psalms and symphonies exalt you, drum and trumpet, string and reed,
simple melodies acclaim you, tunes that rise from deepest need.
Hymns of longing and belonging, carols from a cheerful throat,
lilt of lullaby and love song catching heaven in a note.
All the voices of the ages in transcendent chorus meet,
worship lifting up the senses, hands that praise, and dancing feet,
over discord and division music speaks your joy and peace,
harmony of earth and heaven, song of God that cannot cease.'
Most appropriate after a few days of living in a valley from where all sorts and kinds of wonderful music soars skyward.
I am off to pot in the rain...