Goin’ to Town


When I start putting things away and dusting after the de-clutter, it becomes apparent that the floor behind the living room furniture needs sweeping again and thus furniture moves and is often placed elsewhere. It’s a refreshment of sorts, every time, and I enjoy doing it (except that it upsets Scott, who threatens to bolt everything to the floor).

We had an easy chair in front of the picture window and it was bothering me because it blocked my view of the dozens of small birds flitting through the oak trees to take sunflower seeds from the feeders and then fly into the branches to shell them. I could kneel backwards on the chair but that wasn’t comfortable for long. I could sit on the couch across the room, but eight inches of the wide chair still rose in front of the window, right where I wanted to look. I could stand, but I try to sit with a cup of tea in the afternoons and watch the birds for the time it takes to drink the hot beverage. This provides deep relaxation and clarity after the first five minutes.

In our small house with its oversized livingroom furniture and the many other items that are dear to me (Mom’s accordion, Everett’s piano, my guitar, several large plants, my carved coffee table), and the fact that every possible arrangement has been tried at least twice, it’s a jigsaw puzzle that has too many pieces. But yesterday I was satisfied with the result, as a lightweight, low-rising rattan chair now sits alongside a small table below the window. The chair can easily be turned to face the glass when my tea is steeped, and there’s some elbow room now around the space where I roll out my yoga mat.

Maggie, I take my cellphone with me when I walk, for pretty much the same reasons you do (except I don’t worry about being bothered by anyone, but that’s only because I never have been). A serious slip on snow-hidden ice could mean death quite quickly in this weather, and a cellphone might be the difference between living or dying, particularly since hours can pass with no traffic on our road. I haven’t shopped for a bear horn yet; I’m still in the mindset where I must actually go somewhere to buy things. Online shopping occurs to me and is then forgotten. But that’s what I’ll have to do. There are wolves around occasionally now, and although coyotes and deer and moose always run the other way, there’s no guarantee.

Now that I have a big furry dog to accompany me, I may at least get a warning that there’s a large animal about. But I’m not assuming SadieSue would be much protection. She’s still a pup, we think, though appears full-size. Her paws are large enough to make us guess she will grow a bit more, and she chews the shit out of some things, suggesting youth. Also, she has lovely, perfect white teeth.


SadieSue surveys her domain from the comfort of “her” couch in the tractor shed. She’s been “remodelling” (Scott’s word) it, so it will have to be taken to the dump before there is more of a mess than there already is, with chunks of foam lying about.


They didn’t officially call it a blizzard, but a severe winter storm did blow in around nine last night so we spent the evening and half the wee hours wondering if the roof was going to be torn off. This morning all seems intact. Alas, the windswept yard now displays all Ducky Doodle’s winter droppings on the lawn next to the doorstep, disgusting me no end. We need a poop-scooping service around here. I suck at it, what with the gagging. It’s ridiculous.

A ruffed grouse slammed into a bedroom window on the weekend, possibly startled to be rushed by a big dog while on its usual pecking path around our house. I went out and picked up its beautiful still-warm body, felt like crying, and once I was sure it was dead, deposited our feathered friend in the barn for the cats to find. It was that or Sadie would have feathers all over the place, for sure. The three cats made short work of it, leaving barely any fluff that I could see the next day.

My birdsaver cords have been untangled and laid out on the bed in the spare room for assembly. Now I’ve just gotta Get To It. Not today, though. Today’s a goin’-to-town day, since notice that one of Emil’s bills needing payment (“today or tomorrow” was the message received Monday or Tuesday; kind of last-minute for a bill that needs immediate settling, I thought, not saddling up my horse) has come in, my shiatsu therapist found an hour for me, and it’s Everett’s day off so we are going to have supper together. We’ll pop over and see Emil too, as his group leaves for Mexico tomorrow.

But first: dishes, a walk with SadieSue, and various and sundry other small pursuits that quickly fill a day here in paradise.



One thought on “Goin’ to Town

  1. The poop-scoop issue is what deters me from living with a dog! I’ve often wondered if it would be possible to have a small fenced enclosure outside, where the dog could be persuaded to do his or her business every time, so that one could just go in with a shovel and scoop it up once a week. And since it was fenced no one would accidentally step in it. But then what to do with those shovelfuls! From what I read you cannot compost it, so it would have hang around to go out with the trash, which seems awful to me, the poor garbage collecting fellows. There has to be a solution, but I don’t know what it would be!


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