Walking With Annie
We used to walk with Jazz. I miss him. But walking with Jazz in his state of sickness meant limiting our adventures to a half mile at best, a slow half mile. Annie might be older, but she can still clip up that hill. Together in the snow we move across the landscape like the happy packmates we are. We jog here and there. I tell her stories. I often sing. I once read that all the medication in the world for melancholy is useless compared to a daily walk and several glasses of water. I think that is true. And the longer the walk, and the more glasses, the better.
More snow today. They are predicting three inches. It's Saturday and I plan on spending it updating the blog with workshops, a yard sale, livestock announcements and stories. But I will also be out there in the wind and snow, walking an old Siberian, and watching her muddy prints appear in the snow as my own prints cover them, step by step. I love that old girl.