If I’m having trouble being present in the here and now, our six-month-old Aussie/Border Collie will snap me right back. She thinks nothing of ‘disturbing the peace’ and bringing my attention front and center—onto her.

            “Please pet me. Let’s go for a walk. How about a game of fetch? Or better yet—yahoo time with no leash!”

            These days it’s all about the dog and what she needs during the day. But sometimes (a gross understatement) there is work to be done and I have to figure out when and how to do it, and with or without her. Things like ongoing maintenance issues around the property: broken pipes, backed-up drains, faulty irrigation systems, battling ants and mice…

            During the past decade or so we’ve taken to leaving the car hoods up to dissuade rats from seeking comfort in the engine compartments and chewing wires, which can end up costing hundreds of dollars to repair. Our practices would never fly in an HOA neighborhood where garage doors are required to be shut and clotheslines are prohibited. Aah, the country life.

            I’m grateful every day to live out here amongst the rocks, trees, birds and lizards—especially these days as we attempt to skirt around the recent Covid surge and polarizing speech surrounding the many issues which have come to a head. When crossing paths with other people, I strive to find our common ground. There is always something we can agree on, or at least we can try to see through each other’s eyes and go from there. Blanket statements about anything won’t buy much. How can we be absolutely certain about things anyway? Just straighten up and smile—over and over and over again.

            Besides, everything is shades of gray. We’re only human and really can’t possibly see the whole picture, no matter what it is. When I was a kid and stated some fact or point of view, others sometimes asked if I was sure. I remember replying, “No, I’m not totally sure.” Heck, I wasn’t even certain, beyond any doubt, that I was really here at all. It could all be a dream or something beyond my comprehension. Even now, I still think that everything is shades of gray—even things we may feel strongly about. And definitely for what we think things should be like. Why can we no longer admit that we simply do not know?

            So—back to the dog. Last Sunday Zelda and I hiked up the mountain behind our house and sat on a flat boulder part way up to watch the fog roll into the canyon as vapor trails. For an uncommonly long time for her, she laid quietly beside me while I sat cross-legged admiring the view. Then we both heard footsteps coming down the trail, not human, and focused our attention. A doe with lovely long lashes peeked around a rock and looked at us. I said, “Hello, beautiful,” and Zelda produced a soft little growl without moving. Fortunately, she was on the leash and didn’t bolt after the deer when it turned away and trotted back up the hill.

            Thank goodness for the little happies like this in our lives to remind us that we’re not alone and that life is special. One of my little happies this summer has been adorning our five-year-old granddaughter with elaborate (for me) seaweed costumes on our forays to the beach. And we draw hopscotch patterns on the sand with our toes and I watch her and a friend dance along the shore, wearing their towels as cloaked actors. Every couple of weeks a few of my women friends come over for a no-frills, sit out in the shade, gab session that usually only lasts an hour or two. But it’s hopefully enough to sustain us until next time.

            So, in the meantime, I’ll try to remember to stay positive, straighten up, and smile—over and over and over again.

Chi Varnado has four newly published books. The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; and three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com. You can follow her on Instagram or on www.Facebook.com/dancecentrepresents.