Quiet time...dogsitting again...it's too damn cold but at least the dogshit in my backyard is frozen. I snarl and bark and show my teeth to keep Zeke out of my way, when he is in my way. Which is just about always. I guess you could say I'm not a dog person.
I have a tiny photo of Frieda Kahlo in a box on my windowsill. It's next to some shells from Australia. In my mind I am far away from here. Somewhere without dogs.
What is it about winter? The cold eats your bones. Last month's snow shatters into smaller and smaller pieces but never seems to go away. Now that the holidays are over it seems like these short brittle days will never end. I need to go someplace warm (without dogs) or have a massive infusion of chocolate, or both.
Well, the Giants are still in the playoffs and I saw a robin today. So I guess there's hope. In two weeks I give the dog back and head out to the coast. When I get back it'll be not quite spring, but almost. The earth is tilting. The sun sliding along the horizon. I wait, incrementally, like a cold, grumpy, dog-hating seed left over from last year. I know my time will come.
