Sophie tring to tell me something.
North
Texas has two really wonderful seasons—Spring and Fall. Sometimes they fall at
odd times of the year, and sometimes they are so fleeting you barely know they’ve
been here. They rarely last as long as you wish they would. But the last couple
of days have been Fall at its best—wonderful sunny days, not too hot but just pleasant,
and evenings with just a touch of cool that hints gently at what’s to come. No strong
hint that we’re predicted to have a winter as strong as the last one.
I’ve
been scared off the patio by dire warnings of mosquitoes. Those pesky things
don’t bother me much, but I have friends who are tremendously attractive to the
biting bugs, and so I took their word for it and stayed behind the screens. But
last night was so pretty, Jean and I sat out on the patio for a glass of wine.
It was especially pleasant because both Christian and Jacob wandered by and
visited briefly. And not one mosquito bite. I fixed lamb burgers and three-bean
salad for supper, only you cannot find wax beans in the store any more. On
Amazon, you can buy three cans for $17—better than a dollar a can, which seems
high to me. So my three-bean salad really only has two beans—green and kidney.
But gosh it was good. Jean loves lamb but had never had a lamb burger before,
so that was fun.
Tonight,
Jordan is in Austin, so Christian and I met Subie and Phil on the patio at
Maria’s Mexican Kitchen. Again, it was absolutely beautiful—pleasant temperature,
lovely to be outdoors, sitting in the shade so the bright evening sun was blocked
(at the cottage at this time of year, the setting sun bores into the door and lands
right in my eyes, whether I’m at my desk or in the kitchen). There’s nothing
like friendship and a glass of wine outdoors on a pleasant evening.
But
evenings and mornings have grown cool. Last night it was down to the 50s, and
for several days I have put a sweatshirt cardigan around my shoulders at my
desk in the early morning and once the sun goes down in the evening. Tonight,
as we lingered on the patio at the restaurant, I felt the first bit of chill,
and by now, home and at my desk, I closed the door because it was too cool. I’ll
leave the a/c off when I go to bed, though I’m liable to wake in the early morning
and turn on the bedroom unit. Texas has such mild seasons, not the dramatic
changes I was used to in Chicago and even Missouri, so these hints of changing
seasons are welcome. I never did complain much about the summer heat, awful as
it was, but I will no doubt soon be complaining about cold. The first really
chilly spell usually happens in early October. Tonight will be in the 50s
again, but the days are predicted to stay in the 80s. Couldn’t ask for more—except
some much-needed rain.
I came
home tonight to a desperate dog. Yes, she wanted to go out, and she did that
briefly but then she was back in the cottage, barking furiously at me. I gave
her a small treat which only mollified her briefly. She has various barks, and
this tonight was so earnest, so expressive I was baffled. She was trying hard
to tell me something, and I wasn’t getting it. She ignored the open door and
the fresh water I had just given her. She ignored me when I told her she’d had
her treats and was done.
It
suddenly dawned on me: she is used to dinner being in two courses—how sophisticated
of her. She gets the wet food she’s wild about, followed by a modest helping of
dry kibble (don’t ask—how this came about is a long story and involves a mighty
case of bronchitis). Sometimes she ignores the kibble, sometimes she eats it an
hour or so later. But I realized tonight I’d fed her the wet food, and she hadn’t
made a big deal of wanting the dry, so I forgot it. Now, hours later, she as trying
to tell me she hadn’t had the second course of her dinner. Once I gave her kibble,
she was perfectly content. No more barking.
I sure
wish I spoke dog.
