Whew, blows is putting it mildly! It happens every year and I try not to whine about it but it’s hard! 🙂 We get lovely rain showers and then the wind comes along and sucks away all that nice moisture, but the grass is turning green anyway, and little wadded up knots of leaves on the serviceberry bushes seem moments away from bursting open. Tiny sprouting bulbs and wild flowers shudder in the wind and I wonder every year how they can stand the constant onslaught.
Fresh leaves on the trees are unfurling into a biting wind chill – they must wonder if winter is really over!

Luckily I finished most of my burning and spring yard cleaning before the winds came, including collecting all the puffs of polyester filling scattered around the dog yard – remnants of shredded Christmas dog toys that had been buried under numerous snow falls. Neighbors would certainly wonder what those were if they saw them blowing across their yard. With all the raking and burning, the only contribution made by the dogs was their sweet company, though sometimes a little grumbly at having to be tied up out in the wind. Notice Coop’s winter coat – he’ll be shaved into his summer coat next week, he’ll look totally different.

In the meantime, we’ll batten down the hatches and hang onto our hats, keep the fire stoked and look forward to those first soft warm days being blown our way!

It’s that time of year again, well, one of several times, when I tend to whine about the weather. We’re having winter, spring, and mud season all in one week – it’s annoying and hard to plan anything and too much yard work needs done all of a sudden. It’s time to read my own story, again, about perspective, and will share with you in case you need a gentle reminder to enjoy whatever season you’re in 🙂 I’ve included a pic of the sign I made for my bench, one of my benches, as a reminder of this lesson:

Julie eased down on the bed, face first, so exhausted and sore she couldn’t even lie down fast. She lie sprawled out for some time, her mind going over chores accomplished and more still to be done. The horses were taken care of. Carl had the truck running, a bad starter solenoid, he said. He was still working on the mule and when that was ready she’d clean out the corral. She really had to get to the raking. She’d slid and sat down hard on the path to the shed, twisting her ankle first thing this morning, the pine needles were so deep and slick. Carl thought that big jack pine should go and she was thinking he was right. She’d worry about that later. Other matters to deal with. The well was up and running again, one good thing. Carl was a lifesaver. Julie worked in town at the hospital, 12 miles away, doing clerical work. She boarded horses for extra money so she could hire out the heavier work she couldn’t handle herself and some of the mechanical chores. Carl worked for her several afternoons a week, working around his school schedule. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. “Who ever called weekends days off?” she wondered as she drifted off.

Julie dreamed she was swimming in the ocean, floating, suspended, muscles relaxed, and it was warm. The air was thick and she savored its heavy saltiness. The clanging of a buoy out in the fog somewhere made her smile – she had missed the sounds and smells of living on the coast, things she had taken for granted until she had moved away and they were no longer part of her life. Why had she left? She couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter now, she was swimming and drowsy and warm.

When she woke up it was almost dark, the faintest hint of dusk outside. She was still dressed, curled up in a ball on top of the bedding. Great, she thought, I’ve messed up my sleep for the night. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, groggy with sleep, trying to remember what leftovers might be in the frig to make a quick dinner.

Coming out of the bathroom a few minutes later she was shocked to see it was brighter out. Glancing at the clock she saw it was 7:45 – she’d slept straight through the night. She was stiff and sore and certainly didn’t feel rested. She slipped her boots off, deciding to lie back down for just a few minutes, then she’d get up and feed the dogs and horses while coffee brewed. She wondered about moving back to the coast. Maybe she’d go look at the condo later that Sally had told her about. No wood splitting, corral cleaning, someone else could worry over maintenance. She could sleep later every morning.

“Get up. You need to come.”

Julie opened her eyes, not sure if she’d really dozed off or not.

“Get up!” she heard again. She didn’t recognize the voice. The clock showed 8:00. She rolled over and looked toward the door but no one was there. She rubbed her eyes.

“Let’s go.” she heard. The commanding voice sounded like it was coming from the deck off her bedroom. She got up and slid open the glass door and there on the railing was a huge raven, head cocked, looking at her. She stared at it for a moment and looked around to see who was calling.

“I called you.” the raven said, seeing the question on Julie’s face.

“You!” was all Julie could say. She stared at the raven, not believing this was happening. “You seem like a very real dream, raven.” she said.

“You are not dreaming, Julie. Can you feel that breeze? Can you hear it in the trees? That warm pine scent, can’t you smell it? This is not a dream.”

“I must really be tired, I’m going to go make some coffee and then I have to feed the horses.” Julie muttered to herself. “I must be exhausted.”

“No!” the raven said. “Come now so I can show you.”

“I don’t know what’s happening here, raven, but I have work to do. I can’t go with you anywhere.” Julie was questioning her sanity.

“It is not a day to work. Don’t worry about your ranch. Come.”

Julie gave in to the dream. Horses and dogs didn’t need fed in dreams. She’d go to town after she woke up and pick up hay. She’d take Mrs. Wilkens’ bay out for a ride like she’d promised, when she was rested and could think clearly.

“Okay, let’s go.” Julie said. The raven led her across the property to the west, up a little rise that crossed into the neighboring ranch. He waited on a fence post for her to catch up. “Where are we going?” she asked again.

“This is far enough.” the raven said. “I just want to show you something. I think it will be easier if you can keep up with me.” Before Julie could ask what he meant she too was a raven – it seemed the most natural thing.

“This is a great dream, better than swimming in the ocean.” Julie thought. She often dreamed of flying, of making big swooping dives over the landscape, pushing through the air in a sleek body. She longed to make a flight out over the lake, to soar off the ridge, the ground dropping away, to see the valley from a great height.

“Let’s do some flying.” Julie said. She was wide awake, ready for an adventure. But the raven didn’t take off.

“Look there.” he said. Julie hopped around and looked back. There was her little ranch, as she liked to call it. It was snowing hard.

“What do you see?” the raven asked.

“I see it’s snowing. How did that happen?”

“What do you see.” the raven asked again.

“It’s snowing,” Julie wasn’t understanding. “I’ll have to get a path shoveled out to the barn, and dig out the heater out for the trough. I haven’t cleaned the chimney yet this year.”

“No!” the raven practically shouted at her. “Tell me what you see.”

“Alright.” Julie said a bit angrily herself. She looked at the raven for a moment, then turned again and looked down. “I see snow is starting to pile up on the horses backs. The trees are getting white and it’s calm now, so quiet. And I can smell wood smoke.”

“Good.” the raven said. “Now we can move on.”

The two ravens took off. If ravens could smile Julie would have been grinning from ear to ear. Certainly this was the best dream ever. They flew into the woods on the east end of the ridge and suddenly it was foggy. Julie had a hard time keeping the raven in sight.

“Wait.” she called but the raven disappeared into the mist. She landed on a pine branch , not seeing the raven anywhere. “This is just like living on the coast, one of the things I hoped to get away from. Ugh, and here it is again, this smothering fog!” While Julie sat grousing to herself about the fog she heard the raven’s voice.

“And what do you see?” he asked her.

“I don’t see anything,” she snapped, “and I’m getting cold.”

“Tell me what you see.” the raven ordered, so Julie tried to focus.

“Okay, I see hoar frost, it’s starting to prickle up on the pine needles. It’s forming little stars and flowers along the bark there! The fog is pretty the way it moves through the tops of the trees.”

“Ah.” said the raven. “You think that’s pretty?”

“Well, sure!” Julie replied.

“Then we can move on.” And the raven took off, making a wide turn through the trees, heading back to the west once again, racing across the fence line and lighting on a big stump where Julie could join him. It had started to rain and still Julie felt cold.

“Now, tell me what you see.” The raven motioned again down toward her house and outbuildings.

Julie concentrated through the rain. “I see a lot of mud that the horses will roll in and the dogs will track through the house. Dandelions will be taking over the corral. I’ll bet that’s not what you want me to see.” She turned to the raven but his expression didn’t change. “Okay, okay, I see the edges of the pasture are starting to green up. I think I see fritillaries over by the fence. That means the shooting stars should be coming up soon. The sun is warm on my back.” Sure enough, it had stopped raining and the sun was out.

“Say.” Julie turned to the raven. “Do you know a girl named Dorothy?” The raven looked hard at her a long moment. “Goodbye.” was all he said. “Okay, well, I want to thank you for this raven day, for the chance to fly and to see my world this way. Can we do this again?” Julie was sure she saw a little glint in that black trickster’s eye. He cocked his head and took off in a flash of black feathers, disappearing over the north ridge line.

Julie stretched her wings and felt their strength. She rose from the log and zoomed across the field. The balsam root was glowing in the summer sun, reflecting yellow light off the bottom of her wings. Lupine was just starting to show lavender through the bunch grass. She headed toward the barn, circling it once out of pure joy.

“Ravens may not be able to laugh but they can still have fun!” She felt the warmth on her wings. She flew around the front of the house where again the maples were blazing in autumn colors. She swooped around the back and landed in the big jack pine and sent needles raining down on the path below.

“What a magnificent tree this is! It’s been here a long time – what a view!” She fluffed her feathers and thought she’d just sit there a few minutes. She’d get to the chores later.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was 8:05 when Julie woke up. “Wow, what a dream, what a great dream!” She jumped out of bed feeling great. She slid open the glass door on the deck and stepped out. A big black feather was stuck in between the boards of the railing and she pulled it out, smiling. “What a great dream.”

Carl came by later and found Julie working in the barn. “You’re working on your sign, huh?”

“Yep,” Julie said. “No more chores today. I finally decided what to call my little spread here. It’s going to be Raven Day Ranch.”

“Oh, that’s different. I like it! How’d you come up with that?”

“Let’s go get a cup coffee and I’ll tell you about it.” Julie put down her tools with a smile, taking Carl by the arm and walked up the path over the fallen needles. In the distance she heard the faint cry of a raven, catching thermals out over the ridge.

Another silly old chestnut – one that does little to soothe an aching heart. And the question that follows leaves the wounded soul wondering – would it have been better to have never loved at all?

I was introduced to the love of my life when I was about ten – when Dad took me flying. I was fascinated with all the gauges, the noise, the escape from the ground, the rush of coming back down. Even over Phoenix I was thrilled by the view. I got my license as soon as I was old enough. My dream was to be a corporate pilot, but was told that competing in that post Vietnam era was impossible; perhaps I was too easily discouraged. Nevertheless, the affair continued before, during, and after my marriage. The world of flying is full of interesting people – mostly men – all with fun stories to tell. Though most of my flights were in the Southwest, they included unique adventures like traffic watching over Phoenix and swing loading supplies to the bottom of the Grand Canyon by helicopter, hanging upside down over the Phoenix desert and the San Diego coastline in biplanes, as well as landings at remote airstrips all over Arizona in little Cessnas, solo or with friends and family. Then there was a ride in a DC-3 over Denali – no words can describe that! Eventually I quit flying myself, but my circle of friends continued to be pilots, and three of my jobs kept me around, involved, and passionate about flying.

I don’t think I took my love for granted, but I ignored it for long stretches, not on purpose, just by circumstance. And I have to admit it slipped my mind when choosing my Montana home to settle down – there’s an airport here but no restaurant, no terminal or shop of any kind on the field for a cup of coffee, no place to go to do a little “hangar flying.” Many a great meal has been had in airport restaurants, always fun conversations, always about flying.

After moving here I had a very brief encounter that took me island hopping in the San Juans in Washington in Turbo Otters and landing on my new hometown’s river in a float plane. It didn’t last and broke my heart. Love is the only word.

I don’t think I took my love for granted, but I ignored it for long stretches, not on purpose, just by circumstance. And I have to admit it slipped my mind when choosing my Northwest home to settle down in – there’s an airport here but no restaurant, no terminal or shop of any kind on the field for a cup of coffee, no place to do a little “hangar flying.” Many a great meal has been had in airport restaurants, all with fun conversations and fantastic views – always about flying.

So now I live vicariously through my nephew, Eric. The lucky kid (okay, he’s 35) is now a corporate pilot. He’s paid heavy dues to get to this point, but it’s nice to see the hard work of a great guy pay off. He flies jets to tropical islands and to freezing Canadian prairie towns, has layovers in Aspen, and hours of waiting in not so glamorous places. He also flies Cubs – little, teeny planes that give a different perspective of the world, flying low and slow. He admits there are trade offs, but what price is too high for love? He recently sent this picture from a flight over the Tetons. Look at the reflection on the wing! And see the other plane – just above the peaks? Had I never known this thrill myself I couldn’t close my eyes and hear the hum of the engine, feel the heat from the floor vents, or know the privilege of seeing staggeringly beautiful parts of this country that most people will never see from that angle. So though I mourn my lost love, I look forward to every picture Eric sends and hang on every word as he describes his latest adventure. Thank Goodness I once knew this kind of love, it would have been tragic to have never known it at all!

So I found out yesterday I didn’t make it to the second round of the Amazon/Create Space contest with The Sparrow’s Choice. Disappointing but not all that surprising. With 10,000 entrants in five categories, that means in the fiction category I was competing with 2000 other entries. At times like this one comforts oneself with thoughts like “their loss” or “there are better things waiting,” or “my turn will come.” Silly platitudes all.

Remember the game Chinese checkers? We played that a lot when we were little kids, an old fashioned board game with marbles set in little pockmarks. It’s a simple game, a fun game that doesn’t require much strategy. The intent is to get your marbles gathered up in a triangular space across the board before anyone else. You can play it offensively or defensively, depending on your mood. It’s not like chess where you have to attack someone to get where you’re going. No one has to be thrown off the board as you focus on your goal. It’s just a few hops, skips, and jumps, a little dodging here and there. There’s a real pleasure in jumping over a few obstacles, suffering a few setbacks or sidesteps and then moving forward again, none the worse for wear. We all know side trips can be kinda fun anyway. 🙂

Nice analogy, but life is not that simple. More often than not something jostles the board and sends marbles flying. Most of the world prefers chess. It knocks you up the side of the head, purposely trips you from the back, and enjoys seeing you with your face in the dirt, hoping to remove you from the game completely. That spot on the distant horizon can seem pretty unattainable. Of course, not moving up to the next level of this contest is not like being a pawn that’s been removed from the game. My marbles are still lined up nicely and I’m moving across the board. A query letter is about to be mailed to my future agent and a couple of awards are looking for applicants. As they say, good things come to those who wait. 😉

An excerpt from The Sparrow’s Choice. One of my favorite winter scenes:

At the far end of the stable Sky had Red Boy all hooked up to the sleigh. The sleigh was old, a Portland cutter. It was a faded black with red pin striping but it shined with its fresh polishing. Sky helped Calandra and Everett onto the green velveteen seat and pulled a buffalo robe over their laps. He untethered Red Boy and climbed in next to Everett, pulling the robe up to Everett’s chin.
“Bunch up in there and we’ll keep you warm and toasty.” Sky said to Everett. He gave Calandra a wink and clicked to Tom. The sleigh started away easily on the frozen ground. There were stares from the group at the fire as they watched their nurse and her son off on a sleigh ride with Mr. Sky Crossing. The three in the sleigh just laughed and waved.
The ride was exhilarating and absolutely freezing. Everett pulled the robe up until only his eyes were showing. Calandra pulled his hat down a little further and did the same with hers. Despite the cold she was glad she’d consented. She’d been on a sleigh ride before, but it was through the streets of Boston, nothing like the open country of their valley with its surrounding snow draped peaks and flocked hillsides. They went cross country, coming out on a rise where they could see Hidden Lodge Butte in the distance, like a frozen crystallized cake out on the flat of the valley. They turned east and worked their way down through the willows and onto Lost Horse Creek. They flew up the frozen creek, Red Boy pounding on the ice, the sleigh skidding in the turns. Everett’s giggles bubbled up from under the robe. Calandra knew she was smiling but she could barely feel her face. Sky’s fur hat and scarf were ice encrusted but he seemed unaffected by the wind chill.
It was dusk when they pulled off the frozen creek just before the pump house. Snow spraying off Red Boy’s hooves had formed an icy crust across their laps. They came up to the school grounds from the south. Red Boy knew when it was time to bring the sleigh to a stop. He stood panting plumes of frosty breath out his iced and bristly nose. Sky climbed down and unburied Everett.
“Was that fun?”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir!”
“It was fun for me, too, thank you for coming. Off to the fire with you now, thaw out your cheeks.”
Sky turned to Calandra and helped her down. She still had the robe around her, it was so very cold. Sky pulled it up closer around her neck. They stood there for a moment, barely able to see each others faces in the falling darkness. Finally Calandra took the robe from her shoulders and handed it to him. There was so much about him she didn’t know. His kindness was a pleasant surprise.
“Thank you for the lovely ride, Mr. Sky Crossing. We’re most grateful. That was a wonderful treat for Everett.” Calandra hoped he could read in her smile how grateful she was for the invitation. “I need to go join him by that fire.” She turned to walk away but stopped, looking back at Sky.
“How did you know I would go with you?”
“I didn’t” Sky said quietly, “but was truly hoping you would.”

I have another sleigh ride I’ll send the next time I need a winter fix 🙂

One of my wood piles is down to bark chips, dried moss, and saw dust. It’s not time to sweep up the season though. January temps are getting up to the 40s almost daily with more of the same predicted. I’m not ready for winter to be over but glad to let the rest of the wood pile sit untouched for a couple of days. And I never turn down warm sun. I took the kids to the lake today and sat on the corner of the dock soaking up warmth. I was overdressed and had to shed my hat and gloves, unzip my coat. Since my last photo was so dark and grey, I’m including one from today so you can see what it’s like on the other days. Absolutely spectacular:

Lots of bare ground showing up. Kinda glad to lose some ice from the driveway, ice from the dog paths in the yard, ice off the roof. Lots of dripping going on. The icicles come and go.

“Jim’s” bench down at the lake was free of snow today, so sat there for a few too.

Coop and Sara had a good run and time for exploring. The deer spine showed up again, the same one from last year, a little smaller, a little grayer. Amazing how an old string of bones can entertain Sara so thoroughly. I had taken my skates just in case. Though the lake still looks frozen I don’t believe it. Hard freezes will be back and I’ll still get my chance at gracefulness. We were all sorry to leave today, it was so pretty – and warm!

My bucket list was completed a year and a half ago when I visited Vermont and took a fall bike ride that included pedaling through a covered bridge. Life can be so good! Since then, though, I’ve been remembering other things that I’ve “always wanted to do,” and have a new list, a secondary bucket list. Something will happen or someone will mention something on their bucket list and it jogs a memory. My friend Phyllis always wanted to horseback ride on a beach, and she got to do that, and, hey, I’ve always thought that would be awesome, so now that’s on my new list. This week someone mentioned ice skating on a pond.

I’m privileged to live in a forested community with a little lake, six acres I think it is, and it usually freezes solid in the winter time. Why I’ve never thought of skating on it I don’t know, and have never seen anyone else skating on it. I did skate, or try to skate, on a frozen creek about fifteen years ago but the trying didn’t last more than fifteen minutes or so. Water doesn’t freeze smooth and pretty liked groomed rinks, it’s bumpy and lumpy and full of frozen leaves and sticks and scary-looking cracks. There were kids playing hockey on the creek and they made it look so easy, but it shattered an illusion that skating outside in the winter would be so much fun. But I’m willing to try again. Like horseback riding on a beach, outdoor skating has always been appealing. The “bucket list” part is to do it gracefully 🙂 I went over yesterday and tried to sweep an open spot to skate in and discovered that was way too much work. I was going to take a shovel today and clear some more but then decided to just try skating on snow-covered ice. Turns out that works just fine, if you can call what I was doing skating. It was a fun test, though. It didn’t seem as rough as the creek and I think the snow made it a little less slick, so good for a beginner. I only fell down once but that was from Cooper being in the way; I guess he thought he was helping. The weather was cooperative, too. Not too cold, no wind. The best part of the experiment was running into a neighbor who was out with her dog and, it turns out, is interested in brushing up her skating skills (and the fact that she’s also interested in skiing and snowshoeing is an added bonus). So we’ve got a deal. We’ll practice together and be as graceful as skating ballerinas by the end of the season. I can’t wait to get started! I’ll keep you posted about when I can mark one more thing off my list! Life can be so good!

So the contest is entered. The contest Amazon is having for unpublished novels, that is. There’s a grand prize of $50,000 – can you imagine? There are four first prizes, for four different categories, and I plan to win the fiction category for $15,000! Still can’t imagine it 🙂 I’m still editing like crazy and can update my entry for another week. The contest came along sooner than I would have I liked but what could I do? I’ll have it ready and the judges will be wowed. Here’s my pitch, a major project in itself that required a lot of helpful input. Hopefully it will do the trick, for the contest judges and my future fans 😀

The Mitchells were a good team, a doctor and nurse from Boston, with plans to take their son and their medical skills to Pony Ridge, a boarding school on the Nez Perce Reservation in Idaho. After her husband’s accidental death, Calandra bravely journeyed west with Everett to fulfill her husband’s lifelong dream. She hoped she was making the right decision.
Calandra and Everett quickly discovered the appeal of the West, the wide open landscape and colorful cultures. Their life was good at Pony Ridge. Did it take a turn for the better or worse when Calandra fell in love with a Nez Perce man, a member of Chief Joseph’s doomed band? Sky was a good husband and a good father, but Everett struggled with his hatred of the man – was it jealousy, prejudice, or loyalty to his father? Or Billy’s influence? Grass was Everett’s best friend, but Billy was his friend too, an older white student. He was also the school bully and known for his contempt of Indians.
A school campout when Everett was fourteen turned to tragedy when he and Billy were involved in a fight, and a young Indian student named Blue was killed. Was it an accident or did Billy shove him? To some it looked like Everett pushed Blue off that ledge. Sure of trouble with the law, Billy convinced Everett to run. Hopping freight trains, they headed east, enlisting in a war they knew nothing about. By the time Everett was injured near the end of World War I, he had grown into a man, and it was time to come to terms with the war in his own heart, to make his own life decisions – first was making things right with his mother and Sky, if it wasn’t too late.

I got a real treat this year for Christmas. Actually, me and Sara both. My sister sent Sara a “no stuffing” dog toy! Every mother’s dream! Sara doesn’t like it any less either, which surprises me, ’cause usually once the stuffing’s ripped out she loses interest and I’m left to clean up the mess. And so I have to share my dog toys story from a couple of years ago, before they made this great advancement. 🙂 I hope you enjoy it:

I am the happy owner of two puppies. First came a chocolate on caramel cocker, heavy headed, stubborn, yet affectionate boy with big lion’s feet, an overall teddy bear appearance. Then came a terrier mix, a little girl with a comical face and bristly hair. Lots of fun is had by all, the puppies learning and exploring and playing. I’ve had dogs before so I know to expect the occasional accident, muddy floors, and water dribbled everywhere. I no longer cringe from bent houseplants, broken lamps, and frayed slippers. There is one phenomenon, however, that I will never figure out – dog toys.

Christmas time with new puppies is a great time and we were showered with lots of new dogs toys, the first of which was a rubber chicken. I could see the humor in this, sort of, until one of the pups started squeaking the goofy-looking thing. The squeaker was in an unmentionable place. It had a panicked look on its face, which I can understand. If I was manufactured for the sole purpose of being chewed on I’d be panicky too. The irritating squeaker was finally chewed out after about a week, and the chicken seemed much more innocuous. Sadly, the chicken was rather thin skinned and was soon dismembered with pieces left all over the house. The feet continued to entertain the terrier, being just the right size to chew on like a long-lasting piece of gum.

We also received a few stuffed toys. It’s interesting to me that fabric toys are sewn and stuffed so poorly that, after the squeaker is located and ripped out, the floor becomes cushioned with puffs of polyester stuffing and the deflated toy is used for tug of war until only threads are left, which doesn’t take long. Hello??!!! These toys are made for dogs – could we sew them a little better please?

I’m also amazed with the colors that dog toys come in. Dogs see limited colors, in fact, no reds or greens. So why do dog toys come in every screaming color of the rainbow, including odd combinations like fuscia and turquoise or Christmas colors of red and green? If toy makers want dog owners to buy them, knowing full well they’ll be scattered everywhere in the house, most heavily in the room most likely to entertain company, why don’t they make them in colors a dog mom can appreciate – a nice floral perhaps, a soft brown to match the carpet? Would dogs like them less if they came in a blue toile?

When I reported the demise of the rubber chicken to its sender, that kind person then delivered a….well, they thought it was a goose, I thought it looked like a scared vulture with long pink eyelashes but now have decided it was a flamingo. It was flesh-tone rubber, molded with a skirted white swim suit and ballet slippers. Who thinks of these things? I could see some entertainment value in this – maybe. Of course the squeaker was in the poor creature’s derriere, the first place the dog chews. Now I ask you, for whose benefit is this? This toy, too, had an alarmed look in its face, and if it hadn’t come with that expression it would have acquired it after it was drug around by its butt for days until the squeaker finally tore out, leaving a gaping whole in the back of her swimsuit. Before long I find the poor dear with that hysterical look on her face staring at her legs laying across the room.

When escorting new dogs outside during the middle of the night I’ve stepped on blue fuzzy snakes, walked around a glow in-the-dark frog that lost its legs during snack time, and tried hard to avoid a spikey orange football. What a minute, glow in the dark frog? If the spikey football glowed in the dark it would sure save my feet.

I spend a lot of time in the yard with two dogs – cleaning up, cleaning up, and then cleaning up. I retrieve inside toys that somehow got outside – they’re easy to spot with their bright colors. I fill and rake smooth freshly dug holes and replant sprouting bulbs. As I’m picking up red and purple remains of a plastic toy, I find the chicken head peaking out of the shrubs, that hopeless look on it’s face. I know exactly how it feels.

Having made my resolutions for the year at Thanksgiving, regarding health and better eating habits, I can now use the New Year to focus on an attitude adjustment. Always room for improvement. Calvin and Hobbes are my all-time favorite cartoon characters. Sometimes they are profound, sometimes provocative, always hilarious. Sometimes I get my insight and inspiration from them.

Sometimes not 🙂

One of Calvin’s lessons to me is to be a better observer. He pays attention to the world, to the woods where he plays, and to what Hobbes has to say. I resolve this year, again, to be more observant, more appreciative, more present. Life is hard, so it’s important to be aware of any and every instance of pleasure. Things like the ice encrusted faces of my dogs after they’ve been wrestling around out in the yard, squirrel tracks in the snow by the woodpile, and perfectly formed snowflakes when the temperature is just right – if you get real close it’s like a magic show!

I’m also going to work at seeing things from every angle. What may initially seem like a problem or a stumbling block may be that cloud with the silver lining, or there may be an opportunity hiding itself in there. A bit cliché? Maybe. Do they still work? They might if I let them. And if not at least I can say I tried. When the old platitudes don’t suffice I take the kids out for a walk and pay attention. I wouldn’t want to miss ice crystals in the air on a brisk sunny day, or the pine cone crumbs from the Northern Flicker that just flew off, or any other of the bits and pieces of joy I could miss if I get bogged down in pointless worry and negativity.

There’s a wonderful line from the movie Joe Versus the Volcano. Meg Ryan’s character says “…almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to… only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement. ” I want to be one of those people!!! My one and only resolution for 2013!