Well, I tried to post more pictures yesterday, but blogger was not cooperating and I did not have the patience to keep on trying. I worked yesterday, and it wound up being a long day. I really do like that job though. I enjoy the people that I meet.
I left work, came home and made supper. It was pre-prepared, zucchini stuffed with sausage, peppers and onions and tomatoes. I just had to zap it in the microwave and toast some garlic bread to go with it.
I helped Tim bleed the brakes on 'the car that will not die', an 88 Oldsmobile 98 with nearly 200,000 miles on it. We drove it down town to test his work, and stopped to pick a bag of coffee beans. I found an excellent deal on notebooks and picked up a half dozen for school. By the time we got home, the car was making a strange noise. This was the same car that left me stranded downtown. "When does this car become unfixable, Tim?" and Tim laughed and popped the hood on it. I grabbed the bags from the back and said, "I'm not driving it anymore, and I don't think you should be either," and with his head under the hood, he muttered, "Well, now that's a new one..." and he laughed once more as I rolled my eyes and huffed.
We went to get firewood after that. My favorite dog in the world, Bearly, was glad to see us as usual. She's a beautiful dog with golden eyes that are really quite striking in her black face. Unlike usual, she didn't amble over for a thorough petting. She had killed a woodchuck and was in the middle of dinner. She did thump her tail amiably but kept her mind on more important things. I thought about what a lucky dog she is. Really. She is what she is: a beloved pet, but still, a dog who is allowed to be a dog. I don't imagine that she knows what a leash is. What binds her to her home, to her owners is even stronger: it is love. We talked to the man and watched Bearly eating in perfect contentment. Now that she's older, she catches a woodchuck about every other week, but used to be that she got one nearly every day, ranging far, and then carrying it in from distant fields. I did not want to hear another old dog story, and it made me think about my old Buck. But we laughed when the owner sighed. "She'll stuff herself and she won't want dog food for a few days."
We went down to get the firewood, and suddenly two horses came running up to the fence, along with a small cow. Surprised, I went over to pet them and talk to them, when I heard it. "What's that?" I asked Tim, listening. He stopped too. It was coyotes, carrying on very excitedly about something. We listened to them for a time. It was a large group from the sounds of it. Their yips and half howls carried across the fields, and I hoped that Bearly was still having dinner safe in her yard, because coyotes are more aggressive in a group than they are when they are alone. A pack of coyotes will attack a dog. After we got a truckload of firewood, we headed down in the direction of the ruckus, but the noise stopped. We sat in the cab of the shut down truck, silent except for our own breathing and listened to the sound of a late summer night.
We came home and we unloaded our wood, and we talked about the winter coming, and joked with each other, and when we went to bed that night, we were ready for bed. I was not ready for the rather large spider on the ceiling directly above our bed, and I made Tim kill it before the lights were put out, lest it lose it's grip and fall, landing in our bed where we slept, slack jawed and unaware.
Today, I will head off to school for the day. I will spend exorbitant amounts of money on a very large pile of books. I will head back and go to work. I will enjoy that too.
Life seems very balanced lately. I love when that happens.