Serenity

Green lines become red lines, diving for the bottom of the graph charts.  Headlines scream.  Driving by a bank gives my stomach knots.  Language in politics becomes volatile. Every day, especially for the past few months, we all seem to be enduring more and more.

As I have said, the dogs seem to know.  Yet they have a serenity about them.  They go about their days in a routine, caring only whether the food bowl is filled, when they walk, if they get a treat, and can they snuggle.  I know they sense stress because they seem more attentive, but their world is safe, it goes on.   

They know, some where inside, that they will soon spend days romping among the yellow and red Aspen leaves, that we'll walk through frost in the fields, smell the faint smoke of a morning fire warming someone.  They know about the evenings at home, stews simmering, Mozart on the stereo, reading.  Life goes on, the world's nerves can be shut out, our time is serene.  

We can learn a lot from them.  Many prognosticators have talked about the need to live simply, for awhile, to cut back, hunker down.  We have done that, here, for a long time.  I relish what I learn from the girls.  The enjoyment of time together, the serenity found in routine, the friends we have made together.  

Life goes on.  The dogs know it.

Murphy's day.