Some Things I Haven't Mentioned Before

December 17, 2010.  Friday.

Situation:  This morning, the last dream of my night’s sleep was about keeping this journal.  I dreamed that I was taking note of some plants, some sort of white flowers, that were persisting into winter time, but then I realized these were not old flowers but new ones coming up.  Then I started seeing other flowers that had come up, which I didn’t know the names of and some of which were appearing behind trash cans in our house, and I suddenly had a feeling of being overwhelmed, that another whole year was arriving in which I’d have to take note of the plants and try to learn their names.  While I was lying in bed, thinking about this dream, I could hear Mway outside barking, undoubtedly outside with Moi, then a little later Moi opened my bedroom door to tell me she was going out and that she had taken Mway out.  I got up to sit over the edge of the bed, and Mway came sauntering into the room, to be pet on the head a couple times, then went sauntering out.  So far today I have no work to do, or rather I have a job I could do that will take all of two minutes to do but waste an hour or more of travel time.  I don’t know whether I should take Mway for a walk or not – but what am I fretting about?  Moi has taken her out, but not for a walk.  So I’m going to check my email, then I guess I’ll take Mwayla out.

State of the Path:  I’m wondering what possibly else could I say about the path – or, on the other hand, I’m thinking of all the things I’ve never mentioned.  Under one of the bare shrubs by the springhouse there’s a bright red, plastic ball, slightly smaller than a basketball, only revealed now in the winter time – probably has been there since the kids were small, or maybe it’s part of the pool paraphernalia that got tossed over here unaccountably.   In the walled garden, I look into the old orchard and see a second PVC pipe next to the one leaning against a tree.  When I get over to the tree, I at first can’t find the second pipe, but then I spot it – it seems to have moved and turned in another direction.  I see the bottoms of briars and sumac saplings chewed bare, probably by rabbits.  Near the hedgerow, I look into the bare honeysuckles and see a cement block, covered with moss.  I hear the chirp of a bird and see two birds – neither of which I can identify.  The one bird – I can say this – is gray and has white feathers on its tail.

State of the Creek:  At the former log jam, I poke my walking stick into the ice.  It’s thick, but I manage to break through it after several pokes.  I still see Moi’s green plants, but they look pretty pathetic, frozen into the ice.  The ball of the sun shines in my eyes as I walk along the creek.  At the narrows, there’s a rotted log athwart the path that’s a little problem to step over since there’s not much space here; it looks like its trunk was in the ground along the bank, but more likely it’s a log that was washed up here in the last high water.  I walk over to the crest of the skating pond.  A couple weeks ago I saw a golf ball on the ground, but I don’t remember picking it up, so I look for it, but I don’t find it.  As I walk by the frozen pond between the ridges, the ball of sun again shines in my eyes.  On the other side of the ridge, as I walk toward the clearing, I look at one of the evergreens sitting in the middle of the field.  Last night Moi mentioned to me that Ezra is concerned about the coyotes in his woods.  Because they didn’t see as much deer this year as they usually do, he thinks the coyotes might be getting them.  But Moi added that, because Ezra had his woods cleared, there’s a lack of cover for the deer.  “Out on our property,” Moi said, “there’s a lot of cover, in all those places we don’t walk.  There could be lots of deer bedding down there.”  As I look briefly at the evergreen tree and the area around it, I think, yes, anything could be in there.

The Fetch:  I toss the birch branch around the circle, Mway running after the stick to the various points where it lands, bringing it back and dropping it at my feet, spinning and barking as I bend over to pick it up.  Today as it lands against the frozen ground it resonates and makes thuds with different pitches and timbres.  Sometimes when it lands it sounds like a bass drum or a tom tom, other times like a marimba.  When it lands in the goldenrod it sounds like the swish of brushes against a snare drum.  On the way back to the house, while Mway’s running ahead of me with the stick she’s fetched enough times to her satisfaction, I spot something on the ground that looks like the guts of a field mouse.  It’s red and green, and I think it could also be a seed pod or something from a plant.  I poke at it with my walking stick, but I don’t know what to make of it.  Back in the house, Mway skitters around her food dish, looking up at me with a smile.  “You already had your breakfast,” I tell her.  I toss her a biscuit.  “Here, you can have this.”