Prairie East

"But Pip rose this morning more animated than he had been yesterday at breakfast time, when he refused the three regulation milk bones he expects to find waiting for him on the edge of the breakfast table every morning after his early constitutional." Klaus, Weather Winter







Sept. 20

The waking up now is fast and furious, similar to the old days of charging across the hallway at 5 in the morning to care for an infant or two. It might randomly begin with a Samoyed puppy bark that is crisp and shrieking, time to get going, in essence, and along with that, dare not retrieve her as immediately as it might take to hop out of bed, pick her up and take her outside, it will likely mean at least one clean up puddle placed on the center of the hardwood floor. Who needs a good stretching in among soft warm pillows anyway. Such small complaints, the ones that oddly are the ones that make a difference, while for others on the current east coast mull over their house drowned in floodwaters, or the conflagrations that seem to spur up on the west coast monthly. So we head outside at that hour is quiet and fairly empty except for the other dog walkers. Rain grays the scene this morning but it is animated by the plunge of a duck across the street onto the high surface of the Yahara River. Such continuous action. I consider the duck's night and wonder at what creature comforts they dismay. Here, along this cut of water between Mendota and Monona, ducks overwinter. I presume that unlike dogs they don't exactly fluff out in another warming coat. No matter the weather, back in the water it is. Frankly, I'm glad they can't literally complain for I sense we'd get an earful. Coffee in hand. This helps. Then it is the pup's daily constitutional, and the coffee becomes something of an unsavory sight, sharing with the scooping hand. A bus roars by, charging up as it does to the crest of the Rutledge Bridge, then bearing down quickly onto the stop sign. A few more cars whizz past in the rain. No more quiet. Poop in hand. Unsavory coffee. I think back to my poor ducks and wonder, just for a brief second, what would it be like to fly out there to the middle of lake, bob around for awhile plucking away at the lake weed tips?