A funny thing happened on the way to the river this morning. As I looked through my camera, an unexpected brightness made me squint. Splotches of dark and light danced around Nicholai in the view finder in a play of light and shadow I hadn't seen since my trip to Montana. 
I've been loving the nearly constant precipitation that has many Portlanders pulling their hair in moldy despair. Maybe my weeks in bright Montana under crisp blue skies helped. Or perhaps my worries about global warming are unconsciously abated by the unseasonal cool temperatures and daily showers. My cool weather veggies are still thriving. Still … the warm amber light and the absence of cool drizzle was a delight.
Wet trail, the result of recent rains.
Some of these days, Mr. Pickle lags behind me for a few moments, always catching up and always smiling from ear to ear. I see, though, a mild slowing down indicative of lymphoma's slow progression. Enlarged lymph nodes haunt my equanimity for a moment, and then Nicholai is off down the trail in pursuit of a rabbit, or busily inspecting goose poop.
Goose poop, almost good enough to eat.
It's an inevitable side effect of my frontal and pre-frontal cortex. I'll never have the easy comfort and peace-of-mind Nicholai demonstrates without effort. But that's the main reason I love dogs. Every day, by simply being who they are, dogs illustrate the beauty of present-moment consciousness. Every day, I take a cue from them and every day, I forget again and start worrying about the past or future. I suppose that's my gift to them – planning for meals, filling the tank with gas to get to our next far-flung adventure, saving for veterinary bills, remembering the deleterious effects of the rotten salmon from the beach. What a good partnership we make.
And how nice it was to have a brief sun break this morning.
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