Back to Fleece

It was sweet if short – that little window of sunny summer weather we had last week. Ah well … our family gave up, decided to cheat, and took off for hot springs in eastern Oregon where we enjoyed a day of mostly blue skies and mostly sunshine over the thermal pools and red hills at Kahneetah.

Not to whine, but back in Portland the skies are gray and misty rain turns on and off. My son and I were in fleece jackets for our morning walk. The dogs were unconcerned with, even relishing, the invigorating cool. They disappeared for moments in the high grass, dogs of the savannah or the great prairies. Carefully inspecting many downtrodden spots – the ones that indicate deer traffic – they finally found the perfect place for rolling.

And roll they did. Izzy first, followed by Nicholai who delighted in the moist cool grass and savored the olfactory pleasure of a minuscule spot of something I could not distinguish by either sight or thankfully, smell. Nicholai reveled in his personal moment of pure sensory delight.

I am becoming a tad cavalier about Nicholai. We are creeping up on the eighteenth month of living with lymphoma with no signs that the end is near. I held my breath over him for months, then a year, and now – at a year and a half – I have started to relax. No timeline to be attached to, nothing to prove, just day by day going with the flow (or rolling with the punches) according to Nicholai.

I am of course, more convinced than ever of the power of real food, love, and exercise. The triad, when embraced, gives back everything it takes (time, money, and a little commitment) in spades. Every day I strive to return to nature just a little bit more and a little bit more. Nature is where life is.