Day 62

My crazy epileptic beautiful nutty devoted black nearly 10 year old labrador Molly, alias Molls, Mollsie, Lollipop, Molly-ma-lolly, Snollie, Bad Dog, Blackdog, who loves, in order: any tennis ball, me, Jess, food, Tim, swimming, the boys, Emma, the beach, any ball at all, snow, rain, sunshine, lying in front of a fire, lying on our bed, lying on the boys' beds, going to the vet (yes, she really loves going to the vet!), visitors. 

When we first got her when she was three, she was awful, barking and insane, in a state of constant excitement for treats, which is how she had been raised.  After a few days I told Tim that we had made a terrible mistake and I didn't know what to do.  He advised me to concentrate on her good points, which I did, and I gave her a  lot of love and exercise, instead of treats, and we managed to train her out of so many of her bad habits, and I fell impossibly in love with her. 

She and I ran 2.5km today, without stopping and faster towards the end.  I discovered my Righteous sisters (the bees) all dead, all all just dead on the ground and on the bottom of the hive, for no apparent reason!  So sad.  So I ran with purpose, my eyes streaming from the cold and also a little for the loss of the bees.  Molly and I leapt over downed branches, forded small rivulets, avoided the occasional icy patch, although they are all but gone, and when we were finished I hauled wood for the snowstorm, collected kindling like a little old witch in the forest, and then took all the rubbish to the dump.  Which is a mission.  We tend to leave the rubbish until all three rubbish bins are full, and the garage is piled high with bags and bags of recycling, enough to fill my big van to the roof! 

Self-portrait with South African Heart.

When Matthew was 9 and newly in America, he wrote a poem for school that was included in an anthology called Anthology of Poetry by Young Americans, which was a bit weird, seeing as he wasn't a young American.  It's called THE JOURNEY.
As the plane flew through the air
With a gust of wind
It sounded like we were never going to get there
I felt like I was a guard above the clouds in the sky
I saw the mountaintops of my country
Hours later I saw the huge sand dunes
Of the Sahara Desert

Such a long way I have traveled
And the peaceful country I am in
Makes me feel mixed feelings
Like I am happy but I am sad
The shape of my country is in my heart