Portage

March 26, 2009

Perspective

Filed under: Humor, Reflection, nature — Tags: , , , , , , , — Deborah @ 7:37 am

Ice Bridge50 degree temperatures feel oh so much different in March than they did in September. It’s the same temperature, just a different month, a different angle, and therefore a different perspective. 

That’s just my experience here in the north. Do those of you who live in more temperate climates tire of hearing those of us in the north go on and on about our weather? We can’t help it. It’s such a big part of our lives. 

Snowbank DogsRight now, with the sun shining like I have not seen it shine in over four months, I’m more alive. The affect feels razor sharp after dreary dark and overcast snowy days for months. Oh, we have had some sun on occasion. It’s just that now, with spring, our sunshine comes with colors. Don’t ask me to explain in any kind of a scientific way. I’m sure there is one. But it’s not until late February or early March that I see those colors in each day’s light. Sunshine in December and January can, on occasion, be bright, but it’s never colorful. 
But now, oh my! There’s still plenty of snow but just look at the colors in the light!

Perspective is greatly affected by the angle in which we view our world. With each new angle, there is a new perspective. During the equinoxes, both spring and fall, when this globe we ride is in balance, I’m usually thrown off kilter because I must move from a perspective I’ve made routine for several months into one that I always know is coming but still surprises me. 

Snow ShadowsThere’s nothing to do really but hang on for the ride. I’ll soon be into a new six-month routine. And then, just when I think I’ve got it down, fall will sneak up behind me I’ll be seeing things differently all over again. 

“In order to keep a true perspective of one’s importance, everyone should have a dog that will worship him and a cat that will ignore him.”

“Bunny slippers remind me of who I am. You can’t get a swelled head if you wear bunny slippers. You can’t lose your sense  of perspective and start acting like a star or a rich lady if you keep on wearing bunny slippers. Besides, bunny slippers give me confidence because they’re so jaunty. They make a statement; they say, ‘Nothing the world does to me can ever get me so far down that I can’t be silly and frivolous.’ If I died and found myself in Hell, I could endure the place if I had bunny slippers.” ~Dean Koontz

Speaking of bunnies, …

Happy Easter Bunnies

December 19, 2007

Boo Boo Antics

Filed under: Happiness — Tags: , — Deborah @ 3:15 pm

Wow. It has been a short month. And a short year, for that matter. Oh, when I reflect on my comings and goings of 2007, it seems very full indeed. It’s just that when I remember back to early January without snow, ice fishing in March, Spring and Summer trips to the far north in search of “the big one,” and the wane of summer into fall, it all feels like yesterday.

This year we have snow in December. My walks with the dogs take a little longer and a little more effort. I’ll have to break out the snowshoes soon. But the dogs will persist in taking me on their walk each day. Their routine rules in this household.

Last Sunday I took off my mittens to use my camera. Later, about 400 feet down the trail, I discovered I was missing one mitten. After traversing that 400 feet many times I could not find it. Now my big black lab, Styx, has a reputation as a thief. In fact, his nickname is Boo Boo because, while he has a big heart and wants to be good, he just can’t. So I was pretty sure he was the reason I could not find my mitten. I searched my trail and every spot along the trail where dog prints wandered into the woods. I went home with only one mitten and it snowed heavily that night. On Monday, I gave Boo Boo a stern talking to and we made a beeline for that same spot on the trail. The big brat went right to the base of a pine tree and dug up the mitten he had buried the day before.

I’m never too angry with him. Years ago the vet told me his hips were so bad he’d likely have to be put down by the time he was five- or six-years-old. He’ll be eight this coming May and manages three to six miles a day with me. His energy is boundless and I’m so grateful I didn’t spend the last few years fretting and in fear of his outcome. I did, however, spoil him rotten and I’m gladly paying the price now.

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