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My thoughts released; a mind set free |
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These pages contain my thoughts, from meandering ideas and persuasions to deep cerebrations and serious mentations. Why, for what purpose? To release my mind and set creativity free. Somewhere inside the constraints of my mind dwells a writer, a poet, an artist who paints with words. In here I release those constraints and set the artist free. Perhaps, lost somewhere in the depths of thought, is a story or a poem, waiting to be written. |
| The snow stopped yesterday shortly after noon leaving about six inches of wet, heavy snow. My wife shoveled from the back door to the garage while she had the dogs out yesterday, so I thought it only fair to shovel the front today. I had the dogs out while I cleared the wet, heavy, and sticky snow; it would have made an awesome snow man. While shoveling, my Husky Max decided he wanted to help. While I pushed the shovel and snow, he would grab the side of the shovel and pull. He thinks he's helping, but he tends to pull the shovel sideways instead of the direction I want to go. But, he has fun "helping" and I praise his efforts. Soon enough he tires of the game and finds other activities. Bellah, however, isn't much into helping. She likes to play and one of her favorite games is retrieving anything we throw for her. Usually it's a tennis ball, but she also loves to play with the small Horsemen's Pride Jolly Ball. It's about the size of a basketball and has a handle on it. We had gotten it for Max, but he showed no interest in it, so Bellah confiscated it as her own. After Max tired of helping me shovel, Bellah came over with the horse ball and dropped it in front of me, hoping I'd throw it for her. I scooped it up with the shovel and tossed it out of the way. She ran and retrieved it, and again dropped it in front of me. She discovered a new game, drop the ball right where I'm shoveling so I have to toss it out of the way, which means toss it for her. Memories of Klarissa, my Golden Retriever, flooded back. Yeas ago she loved having me toss anything for her to bring back. While mowing one summer, I had to toss a stick out of the way of the push mower, and off she went. I mowed on and on the next pass, almost in the same spot, but just over far enough to be in the path of the mower was a stick. Again I tossed it and she ran after it. With every pass, in the same area but in the path of the mower, I would have to stop and toss her stick. Now, years later, Bellah is playing the same game when I shovel. I'm eager to see if it will also be a game she plays when I mow. |
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