Eevee's best moments

Stretching long, climbing out of her crate,
With a groan of satisfaction and a distinct
Up-waggling of her tail

Folding and refolding her long legs
Giving one slooo-ooow blink
And half-closing her eyes, to drowse

Perched on the front seat like the Queen of All Dogs
While her nose shimmies and dances
As all the smells of town come out to greet her

When she runs in the wild
Freer than the wind, muscles like music,
Like a horse, like a fox, like a deer

Fall is for smellers

 

Tacky Dollarama decor is up and the scent of cinnamon-soaked pine cones is wafting across my house.

 

The other day I popped into the dollar store for something, and smelled those pine cones. That smell always makes me feel festive, happy, anticipatory. I didn't buy them, but it sent a wave of gladness into my heart.

 

Today it rained and I had a blah day, a grey day, a generally unhappy day. When my artsy daughter asked to go to the store for more paint, I didn't feel like saying yes. But I did - and when I walked in, that cinnamon smell welcomed me back. I try very hard not to buy unnecessary stuff, so I walked past the pine cones ... but the sadness that had been sitting on my heart all day had lifted a bit when I smelled them - it had - and so I detoured back and grabbed them. And they were nestled in between some Halloween decorations and Thanksgiving tat, so I snagged some of that too - a ceramic pumpkin, and a vaguely seasonal sign - which also begged to come home with me. I left one behind, and I may yet go back and get it. 

And I've been working and puttering around the house and whenever I smell that cinnamony smell, a little part of me smiles. 

 

It's not full-on Christmas, but just a whiff of something to come 

Like the last line of your favourite song when you turn on the radio, 

A quick kiss goodbye in the morning, 

A dream of someone long gone -

Something full of goodness and a little bit of longing. 

 

Autummmm.

Bikejoring under the Harvest Moon

A bike and a dog and the moon

(and oh, what a marvelous moon)

The sky glowing blue

We pedaled right through

What a night, what a light, what a moon.

The End of August

The end of August is always an ache

Even at the beach, even on hot days

A tightness at the back of the throat

The extra grasping at last things

- the last swim, the last bonfire, the last happiness before the sadness sets in-

 

The inevitable realization -

It already has.