Flowers – Sasha of The Chukchi Sea

Not Again?!

March 29, 2022 Pazlo2 Comments

Hello friends!

Boy oh boy I’ve had a great winter. Lots of snow and lots of cold. Walks in the Wonder Woods with my person. But, gee whiz, it looks like spring is around the corner. It’s up to 27 degrees F today, and yesterday’s snow is already melting in the bright sun. The last of the snow is just about gone in all those little nooks and crannies amid the tangles and tumble-down rock walls. I suppose I should get used to this, and give up my dream that one day winter will never leave us, and we can have snow all year.

One redeeming quality to spring is that it brings the birds back with it. Black and yellow birds, orange and black birds, red and brown birds, stripy birds, iridescent birds. They really show up now, too, because mostly the world’s gray-ish where the snow is gone but it hasn’t started greening yet. By the porch those first little yellow and purple flowers came up a couple days ago. These get caught in a frog’s throat and make that noise. I know this because my person calls them Croak Assists.

I don’t know what’s happening with my fictional doppelganger up in the Arctic. We haven’t heard from them for months. It can be a pretty rugged place in the winter, and it’s not unusual that we don’t hear from them until spring, which is still another two months away for them. Lucky stiffs. I expect that we will get all the winter’s mail at once and catch up with the many adventures they’ve had in the season of total darkness.

Wandering around the yard by the driveway I found several great bones, some old snack scraps and a few things that I don’t know what they are but they smell edible. Luckily I beat these little yellow birds to them. I guess maybe there’s an upside to putting the snow away sometimes.

I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long for it to come back.

Wag more, bark less.

Sasha

From Blooms To Booms

November 15, 2021 Pazlo2 Comments

Hello friends!

It’s been quite a while since my person posted correspondence for me. Paws are superior to delicate human hands in many ways, but computers are designed for people, so I need to rely on his fingers.

We’ve had a rough year on the ranch since mom died last winter. My person was distant and seemed inconsolable for a while. That’s when I sat quietly and patiently beside him. That’s what friends do for one another, and he is my closest friend. I know I am his, too, because he tells me he loves me.

Life has taken a new shape now, with mom gone. My person works three days a week, and his puppy Ryan is living with us now, so he is here on most days when my person works. When they both work, Aunt Kerry comes over in the afternoon to visit me. Good thing, too, because I usually need to pee by then.

We’ve watched many sunsets together this year. Each day, the sun is a little further south as it rises and sets. Thank goodness, winter is coming. On Saturday, we saw the first snowflakes of the season. It was a brief flurry that didn’t stick, but it was like a balm to me and my person. The wood stove has been fired up a few times, and the windows are getting taped shut (or whatever it is he does that makes them not open until spring). The plow has been put on the truck, and the dreadful mower has been parked in the cabana. He’s a mowing maniac, though, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see him mow again before snow cover. The outside mower does not work as good as the inside one, which sucks up all the cat hair off the floors. He drives that one around outside and it just keeps blowing the leaves from one place to another. Maybe it’s just a form of entertainment.

In Engleville, we’ve passed the season of blooms, and now we’re in the season of “BOOMS”. Those guys with their long guns are out marching around in the woods looking for things that need to be shot at. Boy do I hate loud noises. So sometimes it’s not bad when they’re far away, but when they’re right behind the house or across the road I need to run into the house. The booms I mean. I’m not afraid of flowers. I just want to be clear that I don’t run and hide from flowers.

Well, my person hastily scribbled another chapter for my book and he wants to put it on my site, but it’s not good. Not good at all. I don’t mean his writing, I mean the story. Here in Engleville, we’re thrilled that the temperatures got down to 23 degrees F, but up on the polar ice cap they’re looking at temperatures that are 30 or 40 degrees below zero, and nothing to stop the wind. While we have been on an extended hiatus, they have been trekking desperately across a thousand miles of frozen wasteland, bound for the sea for which I am named. I hope they make it soon, because everyone in the caravan is starting to wear out. Boy, am I glad it’s fiction!

I’ve heard rumors of the turkey holiday. I know it’s soon after the leaves leave. It sounds like they are planning a gathering of all the family here at the homestead. I’m very happy about that because these people really need each other this year. I’m also happy because it means a lot of turkey and also pies and maybe cookies for me. But mostly I’m glad for them.

It has been a strange year of change. But now winter is returning and maybe things can get back to normal. I’ll be glad for all of us.

Wag more, bark less.

Sasha

Change In The Air

August 21, 2020 Pazlo5 Comments

Bright, hot, sunny days, and cool, clear nights tell me the summer is wearing on. There are a lot of clues that tell us it’s the time of year when the weather begins a turn toward autumn. The air smells a little different. Less of water and more of trees. In the cabana, the spider weaves her last web of the year. After a lot of practice, she sure is getting good at it. The web is a beautiful thing when the morning sun strikes it just right, and rainbows appear in the silk.

It’s a bit chilly now in the mornings, and I can see my breath on the air. Dew sets heavy and cold.

The brood of pewees in the mossy nest left before the little wren nested in the new birdhouse. We were excited to see the wrens nest in the yard again. It’s been a couple years since the old wren house came down, and we’ve missed their lively chatter and captivating songs.

They wasted no time raising their charges, and in just a few short weeks their task was complete, and they have already moved on. It was fun to see them, and nice to have life in the cabana after the pewees moved out.

There are other signs of the progression of the seasons. On the trail, plants are heavy with fruit. The blackberries are almost done, after a banner year. A few still adorn the canes, and even a few red raspberries my be seen. Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans and mature sunflowers are all signs we’re nearing the harvest season.

So Many Susans

Red Berry

Lush Foliage

Choke Cherry

Flowers of August

The morning sun is getting later. It rises now as my person is almost ready to leave for that place he calls “work”, where they keep him all day for five days in a row. Boy am I glad when it’s the weekend, and we can hang out, ride in the truck to The Snack Store, and go for a great hike on Sunday morning. I wish every day was Sunday.

Starlings are gathering in huge flocks now, and each evening, as we enjoy the sunset from the side porch, we watch them fly over by the thousands. A mile-long line of fluttering birds. When they fly right overhead, you can hear the whispering rush of their wings against the air.

Soon the world will begin to take on a golden glow. The sun will creep southward a little at each sunrise. Deer will be on the move, preparing this year’s charges for winter. The bear and the gopher, and even the despised squirrels begin readying for the next season.

I like summer, and the nice weather and some rain. I must admit I don’t like the hottest days that much, what with a big fur coat and being from Siberia. The flies annoy me a little, too. Not to worry. These days are harbingers, a promise of the seasons to come. When we can be out without pesky flies, and nothing tries to sneak under the lattice because it’s buried in snow. Yes, things will be back to normal soon.

Wag more, bark less.

Sasha

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