A long day.
Last night I shared a queen sized bed with four dogs. Two of them don’t understand the concept of personal space. We all woke up at dawn to run outside and play. With enthusiasm.
There was coffee. I needed coffee.
I love all of them dearly. One day I will also make a home for dogs that need one. For now, I’m glad to know that I’ll soon be able to return them safely to a significantly more capable guardian.
I drove on the back roads to do some weeding at one of the gardens I’m taking care of this summer. The matronly woman I’m working for surprised me with a large box of books about philosophy, as a gift. They’ve been sitting on a shelf, gathering dust, but they’re meant to be read.
Books are a love language. I don’t know how else to put that into words.
There’s a collection of essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I’m tremendously fond of his thoughts. I can’t get through anything he writes without feeling as though he’s managed to take something that’s always been just at the edge of my consciousness and put it into exactly the right words. I feel a connection to another human experience that transcends space and time and crosses the boundary between the dead and the living. The language has changed a little in the intervening time, but the way he writes – it doesn’t matter.
Took care of half a dozen other animals, and then came back to the house. Stood in the shower and washed off the dirt and sweat and sunscreen from pulling up weeds in the sun. Put on comfy pants and a fleece and curled up on the leather couch with some of the diet Dr. Pepper I found in the fridge. Kept on slowly chipping away at this macabre bibliography.
Someone local that I met online offered to trade sour dough bread for fresh chicken eggs, and I don’t have eggs, but I asked if I could have some of the starter, and she said I could. I told her that I’m brewing a batch of cherry wine, so not bread exactly but yeast is involved so it’s maybe bread adjacent? And she laughed
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(Friend? asked the heart
Go carefully, said the old, old wound)
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Found another dogsitting gig for next month. I could get used to this – staying in other people’s big empty houses, cuddling with cats and dogs who need company, getting away from home for a while. In an odd way, it reminds me of backpacking in youth hostels. Never quite knew where I was going to end up, but I learned to sleep anywhere.
Tonight the two dogs who don’t understand about personal space are sleeping comfortably downstairs. They will manage.
I hope it’s a good night.