Politics and a pasture

I’m not sure why, but the older I get the more I find myself talking to animals.

Especially the gentler ones.

I spent a sunny afternoon this week atop a hill overlooking a peaceful pasture with a flock of sheep.

I escape to this special spot when the volume of politics in Washington and the rest of the country is turned up too high. And I often need a additional dose when the mud slinging gets particularly messy and stinky during our campaign seasons.

So as I sat alongside my sweet friends, I began to share my woes about all the nasty political noise. The sheep then bleated, baaed and bowed in great sympathy.

At least I like to think they did, though my rational side knows they can’t possibly understand me. After all, I know sheep were labeled stupid years ago.

Yet sometimes it’s like a breath of fresh air for me just to vent.

“And what about that Senate hearing Thursday on the Supreme Court nominee? The insults back and forth in this country are sure to get extra ugly,” I asked one approachable curly haired two some.

“Just what are we to do?” I pleaded.

The two sheep looked back at me for a moment, and then at each other smiling.

Suddenly, and perhaps wisely, one of them quickly turned the other cheek.

Well, it seems most animals, like people, really can teach us something.

And especially those dear ones who have been wrongly labeled stupid.

Change is in the air

What do you do when you’ve just heard your first Christmas commercial, though it’s only mid September?

You shake your head while acknowledging the seasons really are about to change.

I felt it this week in 90 degree temps as I sat on the beach watching green leaves transform to bright gold on the tree before me.

I suddenly found myself hungering for one more Dairy Queen hot fudge sundae before the stand closes up for the season.

And I started to linger even longer watching every last minute of each brilliant sunset.

It seems sunsets this time of year may just be even sweeter than ice cream.

Peace, purpose, and a couple of pups

While staying on a peaceful farm this weekend, I discovered a new purpose for our dogs.

Or at least one of them.

I decided to call the pup Buddy, as I didn’t know his name.

The owner was busy working, so Buddy stepped right in as the perfect host.

He greeted me with excitement as I drove up the rocky road to the farmhouse then proudly started to show me around the place.

Buddy led me through the fields of corn and soybeans, over to the horses, and then to the vineyards just beyond.

Afterwards, he jumped right into my Subaru ready to give directions through the rolling hills towards the bakery in town to pick up carrot ginger muffins and lavender cookies.

At 70 pounds, Buddy’s 23 times as big as my tiny chi Junie B. who joined me on the trip.

But city girl Junie wasn’t afraid and appeared quite impressed by Buddy’s friendly demeanor, hosting skills, and his life as a farm dog.

I’m thinking she might like to learn to be a farm dog, and hostess, as well.

After all, we do know our dogs are never too old (or too small) to learn a few more new tricks.