The first flakes of snow fell in South Colton today. Time to put out the suet for the birds and find where we stored the terriers’ jackets.
Carole went down to the Russell Rescue last weekend to pick up Dash, who will be our third JRT. Call it a weakness. We just love the little suckers. Speaking of weakness, I didn’t even make a post last week to note the tenth year of this blog, or some version of it. I began in October following my Fulbright year in Vietnam in 2000 – 2001. It certainly has been a busy fall — I’m serving on a couple of departmental committees as well as trying to organize a student trip to Vietnam for the spring, teaching a new course, and preparing to teach another new course next term in the Honors Program. But I’ve been busy before without going completely silent in this space. I’ve been doing mostly drawing and painting in my free time, moving toward some kind of quasi autobiographical approach to those media and that seems to have drained my desire to write about myself here, though of course I ought to still be interested, on e would think, in the ostensible purpose of this blog, which is writing about reading. Perhaps as fall diminishes and winter settles in, I will want to setting in the warm glow of a computer monitor more often. Or not: the wood stove has its attractions, however lacking in intellectual rigor.
Heard a loon calling as it flew up-river this morning as we were returning from the morning dog walk. A couple of days ago, C. took one of the dogs out & called to me, “You really should come out and see this rainbow.” Maybe the most spectacular rainbow I’ve ever seen, at least partly because it seemed to frame the scene I see every time I walk out my front door.
Leonard Cohen’s Songs from the Road arrived yesterday from Amazon; it’s a “best of” collection from the 2009 world tour. Cohen still sounds wonderful in his mid-70s, perhaps better than when he was young. All the mannerisms have dropped away. I’ve been doing a series of large “automatic” drawings recently & so this morning I put on the new CD and did a drawing.
I’m sitting on the bed looking out through the bedroom window over the river as I write and the two terriers are sleeping on either side of my outstretched legs. The dream together: at almost the same instant, both Jett and Candy begin twitching their ears and moving their paws, emitting little subvocalized yelps. I’ve also noticed that at times when one is sleeping and the other awake, the waking dog pays no attention to the other’s dream barks, which would not be the case if both were awake — when they pay close attention to each other and will often set each other off barking if one hears something outside.