Waiting for the Weekend

Annie is not exactly academically inclined.  She would be one of those students always looking at the calendar and clock, waiting for the weekend.

Hopefully this weekend will include a hike.  But then we'll be in Bellingham attending a memorial service on Sunday...more transitions.

Murphy's Day.

Sage's Knee

It's been three years since Sage had her ACL surgery.  She seems good.  She'll be 8 years old this December, so I guess I expect, to some degree, stiffness.  But she seems to only get stiff if she has been cold (as in swimming in every river she can find) and then lays down for awhile.  The first few minute walking she if clearly stiff, but then she loosens up.

Needless to say she is doing much better than me!

Murphy's Day.

Under Western Skies

Life, Murphy would remind me, is a series of transitions.  Childhood, school, relationships, parents, homes, places we play and live.  Sometimes we make transitions and then stay.  Other times it's a continuum.  Often we make the transitions intentionally, we buy a home, we get married, we find a job, have children.  Other times events cause the transitions.  Deaths of loved ones, losses of other kinds, even circumstances not even thought about....

Sage and Annie sense I am in a transition.  I think a lot about what is next in my life?  Should I stay in Seattle?  Move to fishing nirvana in Montana or Idaho?  Get out of a city that seems to be adding more and more people, more and more stress, and less and less enjoyment?  The girls sense I am in a transition.  I am quiet when we walk.  I spend minutes mulling a simple transaction, imagining whether drive through tellers in Montana have just as much fun with Sage and Annie as Kelli at my bank.  I wonder whether the Western Skies are watching us as we think and feel our way through this transition.

Murphy's Day.

Hot Dogs

After enduring the longest mildest winter (what was it Mark Twain said about San Francisco?  The nicest winter he ever had was a summer in San Francisco?  Same thing about Seattle), we got a bit of heat.  The girls, who usually wilt at the first 75° seemed as glad as me to see the sun and feel the heat.  Annie just laid in the sun, absorbing and Sage seemed fairly relaxed and not panting about looking for a cool space to hide.  Of course, nothing beats getting into a lake or river to cool off, and I made sure they had plenty of that.

A tish of summer....I know all you folks east of the Rockies have been enduring heat and probably roll your eyes at our complaining about the cool summer here in the Northwest.  But somehow eating watermelon in 50° just doesn't say "summer" to me.

Murphy's Day.

Finally, Gone Fishin'

Finally, found a small stream where the flows were down enough to wade, the fishing regulations allowed me to fish, and I did!  Caught (and released) some gorgeous cutthroat trout.  And I feel oh-so much better.  Unfortunately, where I was fishing was too close to a road for me to feel comfortable allowing the "girls" to run amok.  So they didn't go, an unusual event in my household.

But when I explained to them that I really really needed to fish, they understood.  I have a sneaking suspicion, however, if I try to sneak away a second time I won't get away with it.  Nothing can keep a lab from a river.

The fishing reminded me of my friend Dave Lewis.  Dave died two years ago, the anniversary of his death is coming up.  He lived the life of a trout master, making beautiful fly rods for a living after he retired from years of teaching kids "shop" (remember, where we taught kids how to make things?).  He spent winters and springs in Virginia and summers and falls in Montana, scouring the countryside for small streams to fish.  So as I was casting, I thought of him.  He would probably smile at the thought of fishing so close to a road, but then love the beauty of the ability to get away....I miss Dave's poetry of his heart that he shared, his ability to defend his position in a good fight but then reflect and be willing to admit if he believed he was wrong.  He was a gentleman in every sense of the word.

So my fishing on Saturday was an afternoon with Dave.  Couldn't have been better.

Murphy/s Day.

Sa'Mores

It's the weekend.  And Sage is wondering whether she gets Sa'Mores...doesn't that just sound wonderful? Hershey chocolate, graham crackers, marshmellows slightly toasted????Yum....

Murphy's Day.

Sometimes

Sometimes just being is the best thing.

Murphy's Day.

Waiting on the Rivers

This was the last time I fished.  Ok, I fished a lake after this, but really, it's the last time I fished.

The water is still high, but I am determined to get into a river this weekend.  I need to fish.  Sage needs to inspect insects and Annie is desperate to hurl herself into some moving water.  Hopefully not moving toooooo much.

Murphy's Day.

Chillin'

Phew.  Post Women's World Cup soccer match (good game by the way), pre-finish of the Tour d' France (yes, I still watch it), long week last week filled with heart-sorrow...it's time to do some work and just hang out.  Still no summer weather here in the PNW, but having lived through summers in New York, I remind myself that I have to be grateful it's not 100° with 90% humidity.  Or as a fellow dog walker originally from Missouri reminded me: "ya' know, there isn't a heat index out here."  Good point.

But we are ready for some kind of summer.  Hello?  Weather Gods?????

Murphy's Day.

Evelyn Mason

No pictures today.  Just a sense of loss of a wonderful woman.  Years and years ago I was married to Doug Mason.  His mother (my mother-in-law and dear friend) was a pioneer in so many ways.  First woman tenured as a professor at Western Washington University.  An amazing psychologist who developed a touchstone reading program with the Lummi Indian Tribe.  And the mother to three amazing sons: Doug, David, and Don.  David is the poet laureate of the State of Colorado (and teaches at Colorado College) and Don, a talented commercial photographer who has done catalogs for Lands End, Sur la Table, and Eddie Bauer.  She had much to be proud of in her life.  And yet, she also led a complicated life.  Battered by alcoholism, she sobered up to understand the complexities of life, to help people who fell down dust off their butts and get back up.  She was amazing.  And we lost her last week.

It's was a tough week last week.  My niece also lost her beloved Maggie, a wonderfully loyal English bulldog who "went with the flow"...the river goes down stream, but the pains hitting the heart sometimes feel overwhelming.

Murphy's Day.

Is It The Weekend?

We're waiting for the weekend.  Unfortunately, a weekend at home (the garden will be happy).  But certainly fun...

Murphy's Day.

Thinking of The Girl

I've been thinking a lot about Murphy.  My girl.  It's been almost three years, and I still miss her terribly.

My friends who lost Maisey still seem weighted with sorrow...we met a couple who lost their Golden, also, several months ago.  They cling to their 3 year old pup, Izzie.

It's tough.

Murphy's Day.

Sense A Theme?

We've had a tiny taste of summer.  We're anxious, now, to turn to our passions of summer...it might be another couple of weeks!  The girls and I are not sure we can wait that long!

Murphy's Day.

Sitting By The River

Notice we didn't say fishing.  We're sitting...waiting for the rivers to go down.  And waiting, and waiting.

We never thought we would be upset that there is TOO much water!

Murphy's Day.

Getting Out of Town

Recently I have been cranky about the so-called "new urbanists" who have this belief that anyone who lives in a city soooooo thoroughly enjoys staying in the city there is no need for a car, no need to get out and see the rest of the world (unless, of course, you fly there which oh, by the way, airplanes release more greenhouse gases than driving, but hey....).  These "new urbanists" paint a culture where you live and work in the same building, walk to "sweet little shops" that are located within walking distance, and isn't life grand?

Me?  Well, I've got to get out of the city.  And so do the girls.  I reside in the city because, at this moment, it's where my house is, but it isn't where we live.  Our hearts and souls live near a river, underneath a Ponderosa pine, around a trail from an Aspen stand.  I'd rather work standing in a river than sitting in front of a computer, I'd rather shop at fly fishing stores in a small town in Idaho, and I'd rather find my friends scattered around the countryside.

Murphy's Day.

Water Baby Sage

Sage loves to swim (she comes by it as a McDonald).  And in the summer, nothing is better for her that a dip into a river, lake, or creek (or as we say it out West, crick).  I love watching her swim around while simultaneously drinking water.  Sage gently enters into the river, then swims, unlike Annie who cannon-balls in after a stick (good thing I don't duck hunt with Annie, those ducks would all be in Canada by the time Annie got done leaping into the river).

For Sage, I also think swimming is good for her leg.  And as she ages, I think this kind of exercise is the best...my water baby Sage.

Murphy's Day.

Where's The Stick?

Summer finally arrived in the the PNW, or at least, in eastern Washington.  Which means many trips to rivers or lakes to get the girls cooled off (imagine wearing a fur coat in 80° weather).  Of course, we have had an epic late season snowpack which also means the rivers are flowing at higher than average cfs for this time of year.  What that means is even though the girls get in the water, I stand on shore, longingly waiting for the rivers to get into what we fly fishing folks call "in shape."  In other words, being about to wade without drowning.

Sage and Annie love rivers (the good fly fishing dogs that they are).  But Annie doesn't just get in like Sage, and swim around an eddy.  She needs a stick thrown in.  Or, in the classic self entertaining dog fashion, she will find her own stick.

This picture is on the Yakima River.  An old, out of commission boat launch where Annie was working a submerged stick.

One of these days she is going to ask me for her own pair of Barracuda swim goggles.  Full submerged face!

Murphy's Day.

Sometimes It's All About The Bed

Sometimes for a lab, it's all about the bed.  Having a spot dedicated for you.  Annie doesn't really care that much for a real dog bed.  Sage, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoys having one.  At home, she has two, one in the dining room and one in my study.  Both spots giver her great visuals of the comings and goings of the house.

In eastern Washington she has one near the sliding doors, where she can get a cool breeze in the summer, keep a close eye on the grazing deer, and know instantly when dinner is ready.

It's all about the bed.  Real estate for dogs.  Like some humans, it's: "location, location, location."

Murphy's Day.

Happy Fourth of July

Fourth of July.  I remember sitting on the steps of the US Capital for the Bicentennial fireworks display.  And sitting on Mt. Stuart to watch the amazing sunset over the Cascades.  Or racing sailboats on Lake Whatcom.  Fly fishing on the St. Joe.  Watching a grizzly bear wade across the North Fork of the Flathead.

This 4th of July will be less dramatic, quiet, but nonetheless, outside, making sure the girls don't panic with the fireworks.

Back again mid-week next week.

Happy birthday America.

Murphy's Day.