If I were naming this place today, I’d call it Foggy Mountain. Yesterday afternoon, I was delighted to look up from my writing and seeing snow coming down. Today, the draw is shrouded in fog, ghosting the great pines to specter trees.
It’s a day to have the fire going, and a pot of 15-bean soup bubbling on the stovetop. Bernice is curled up on my bed, and Sadie is downstairs somewhere, trying to cadge an extra breakfast from some upsuspecting soul. The kitties are performing clandestine missions, as usual, little furry spies with all manner of secret hiding places.
And it’s a perfect day to write. The fog imposes a cozy, stay-at-home kind of atmosphere. On days like this, I become a little reflective. Today, I’m thinking of a TV commercial I loved–I couldn’t tell you what the product was for sure, but here’s the scene: a man and woman are driving through a slashing rainstorm, both of them dressed to the teeth for the opera or the symphony or some expensive benefit, and they see a wet, bedraggled dog trapped on a median. They stop, and the man gets out of the car, in his exquisitely tailored tux, sprints through the relentless downpour, hoists the dog up in both arms, and loads him in the back of their SUV. You know they’re going to take that dog home and keep him safe and try to find his owners.
I could love a man like that, one who cares a lot more about compassion than ruining his tux or getting the carpet wet in his SUV. Oh, yes. I could love a man like that.
Maybe that’s why I’m always so crazy about my heroes. Each and every one of them would do the very same thing.
Wherever you are, and whatever the weather there, I hope you are snug and safe, with one or more beloved pets to keep you company. You will never have more devoted friends than they are.
