Breathing in the Morning

Breathing in the Morning

The air this morning is brisk and refreshing,  I keep breathing deeply of the scents of the sagebrush mixed a little bit with the familiar and nostalgic odors of horse and cow manure. The range cattle roamed through again last night.  I would like a fragrant cup of steaming coffee, sitting in a wooden rocker on a porch, with friends. But I’m not allowed coffee; I don’t have a porch and no friends for miles and miles - except for Gather. So you are going to get it!

 The weather report I depend on is on my computer from ABC7 Los Angeles that has been making dire predictions of low temperatures in the teens, accompanied by wind and rain or snow. This is supposed to start today or tonight, peak on the weekend, and last at least a week. Their predictions are often wrong, but usually more accurate than what we get from San Diego stations, whose predictions seem aimed at not scaring off tourists. The weather is usually nice down by the ocean, but has little in common with the weather here in the mountains, seventy miles east. We almost always have wind, and when accompanied by low temperatures, we suffer. This is supposed to be ‘sunny California’, and we are not well prepared with cozy houses, storm windows, and fireplaces. I live in a travel trailer, and I need to make preparations for severe changes in weather.

Yesterday I went to Joanne’s hardware and ranch supply store in Campo, and bought some extra tarps  to cover things, and odds and ends of plywood to add protection to the kennel where Sheba and Bebe, live. They are two of the five dogs my daughter rescued. Bebe seems to be OK, but her mother, Sheba shivers. I think she may have been a pampered house dog before she was dumped out here. People seem to think all dogs can provide for themselves in the country. She was fighting a losing struggle to provide for herself and three mixed breed puppies, when a sand truck hit her last July. My daughter found them and brought them all home. Sheba’s leg is still not completely healed, and will always be shorter and disfigured. We can’t bring her in either of our trailers because of other two other old dogs that Sheba might attack, and in my trailer my female Rocky, is all too ready to fight.  There are also pet cats that come inside at night that wouldn’t be safe with Sheba. I think the kennel with plywood barriers around it, and the doghouse inside with a lot of straw, will give the dogs the shelter they need. I also brought home four more bales of straw to make a protective fort for Jane’s other rescued dogs under her old park model trailer. For myself I found another blanket and I have a full roll of duct tape to seal doors and windows. We’ll be fine.

So far we have a beautiful, sunny and windy day. It was breezy enough last night for me to pretend I was in a bunk aboard a sailboat rocking back and forth. I like to breathe the fresh cold wind and bring it deep into my lungs. It’s like riding a horse full-out back in New England, when he is full of pep after being cooped up all winter. Or like the rush you get skiing down a hill. I can’t do those things any more, but I can dream and remember.

I enjoyed your visit. See you soon.