When I visited my parents in Jasper, Indiana, in early January, I was excited to see the beginnings of snowfall. (I live in the desert of Phoenix, AZ and cherish the soft quiet of a fresh snowfall; it’s a sensation I rarely experience.) When the first few flakes teased me with the possibility of a true snowfall, I pulled into St. Joseph’s parking lot to breathe in the fresh air and touch the sparsely falling snow. I noticed the quiet majesty of the old church that provided the compass of my childhood; no matter where you are in Jasper, the clock tower of St. Joseph is visible. I shot this with my Canon G12, ISO 250, 1/2000, at f/4.0. The white spots are the scattered snow flakes. I did not get to experience “real snow” — only a mere inch or two by nightfall.
Jasper’s been a pill lately. On Sunday, he was focused and right with me at agility, and afterwards, he walked easily on the leash without pulling. On Monday, I left the house in the dark and returned in the dark, hence we did not get out for our walk. On Tuesday evening, he pulled and balked, acting as if he’d received no training ever! Yesterday, he redecorated the condo with pieces of a checkbook and rolls of toilet paper. Again, I got home too late to walk with him. In a few minutes, we’ll go out for our walk but I’m not hopeful of success because he’s been bouncing from floor to couch to table to countertop this evening. Sometimes I think I’ll never be able to train him.
This puts me in mind of the funny and poignant narrative, Marley & Me.