Tag Archives: puppy

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #61. In the Now/The Search for Common Ground (August 2021)

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            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…

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            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.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #60. What’s Next? (May 2021)

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            Are you feeling young and spry? Not so much? Just wishful thinking? Try keeping up with your grandkids or running around with a ten-week-old puppy! Just kidding—not sure if this really works or not. But these distractions can get me out of my head for a while and into the present moment, which seems like a good thing.

            This past year, and counting, has been hard on all of us and we’ve each handled it in our own unique ways—and still are. When things are tough for me, I guess my natural instinct is to hyperfocus on something that I’d consider productive, so there might actually be something to show for my efforts. This can be exhausting and lead to other stresses, but somehow, it’s become my coping mechanism.

            On the bright side, there are four newly published books out there: one women’s fiction and three novels in a YA series. However, my psyche is scanning the horizon, once again, like a hungry coyote. What’s next?

            I find myself coming back to the natural world over and over, finding solace amongst the sagebrush and muttering quail. This is my home, where I dwell—the place where my life belongs.

            The lilacs have been the most beautiful, prolific and long lasting I have ever seen—in my whole life! And that’s saying something. Our close neighbors, a pair of Red-shouldered hawks, are raising their young’uns nearby: sharing their grace with us when they come to the fountain for water or just to check in. One of them, in particular, will linger, as if to say, “Hello.”

            “And A’ho to you, too,” I answer.

            This winter and spring Kent and I have taken to desert wandering. We’ll pick a fairly unknown trail and meander around the cactus and chaparral without seeing another human being. Instead, we traverse with bighorn sheep and horny toads. This is how we like it: safe from Covid. Because we’re still not out of this pandemic. I know that we all sincerely WANT to be, but the truth is—we really DON’T KNOW what’s coming. So, for the most part, we’re continuing on with our own set of safety protocols and staying away from crowds. But when I think about it like this, I realize that perhaps we’ve always been a little that way. Besides, maybe I can use this time to find out what’s next for me.

            Now, back to where I started. Our new Australian shepherd/border collie puppy has us continually learning and adjusting—keeping us on our toes and trying to be as ‘spry’ as we possibly can be—for a couple of sixty-something year-olds.

            So, here’s to your own adventures and to being youthful and spry in your own way. Carpe diem!

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.