Helpful host
My sleep periods seem doomed to interruption. This last while, a cold wet nose is the prod that gets me up, and moving. Dog skills. Non-verbal communication. Etc. Last evening, when the “Come, follow me” appeal took place, there was an ulterior motive. The other dog needed to go outside, and our hound was just being a good host. I was touched by it (as well as by the nose).
Today, somewhat noisier. The two dogs spent the afternoon in a tag team match, trying to let anyone in the area know that they were here and they had something to say. I have no idea what; only that any afternoon naps were short.
I repaired the broken camp chair. A couple of purchased stove bolts (which I will shorten by a centimeter or two), some double-nut fixation, and the chair is ready for use. That’s a good investment of a loonie. Sure, the economy needs a constant replacement of goods; my hope is to extend the period slightly. Preparation for living on a fixed income (as if it wasn’t so before).
I watched the final episode of the Ken Burns documentary about the Dust Bowl, and realized that there are things that are worse than civil war, or prohibition, or jazz. When the land moves like drifting snow, you won’t grow much of a garden. He tells a compelling story of how man seems to mess up, over and over again. The motto for the human race comes down to a bumper sticker: That’s why we can’t have nice things.
