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The sky is that peculiar shade of blue that fades into white where the light shines into it. I can see contrails, streaky cirrus clouds, the beginning ripples of sunset. The sun is low and shines orange against the house. If you look you can see it shining through leaves, tracing their patterned skeletons.

Earlier today, we took the dog up on the hill and threw a sodden drooly tennis ball for him. Over and over, he never gets tired, though his lolloping return slowly decelerates after awhile. We could feel the wind scudding across the hill. We could see across the fields, plowed and planted in great brown ridges with green already springing up everywhere. The grass has zoomed up high this past week and it's not even been that warm. The wind tugged at our jackets and flung my hair about. I could feel the pull in my shoulder as I stretched and wheeled, back and OUT to throw as far as I could. It's been a long time since the softball days and I'm out of practice.

The dog was in motion each time before the ball left our hands. He sprang in great bounds and plowed into and over the ball, tossing up last year's dried grass from underneath his feet as he rolled and slid and came up with the ball every time. Martin played pranks on the dog and laughed hilariously each time: faking the throw. Once he made the dog stay while he walked to the edge of the hill (it's man-made with a steep grassy slope that the kids sled on in the winter) and set the ball down. "Fetch!" he yelled and Mental went flying for the ball, and predictably, over the edge with it. Up he popped again, 2 seconds later, the ball distended and squashed in his jaw as he chomped it and came happily back to us: mission accomplished.

He comes up to me, where I'm sitting on the sofa reading and thrusts his sleek head under my arm, pushing his big body closer to mine and wagging his tail while I scruffle up the fur on his neck and pound on his side with affection. He's only a 4-day dog for us this time, but he's already burrowed his way into all our hearts.

Later: the moon is like a giant silver dollar in the sky, glowing against the blue and lightening it up. The moonman's face is stark and staring; pale and surprised as he always is. Somehow I feel comforted, knowing he's up there, watching over me.
mood: cheerful
music: Adele—Chasing Pavements

From Megsie

Oh, my Liz. This is a beautiful post. Your words cascade down around my ears and I am there with you, my hair being tossed and throwing that soggy (gross!) ball. Thank you for writing this. It is the only time I have enjoyed the outdoors today...I spent my day here working at the computer. Clickity clacking all the live long day.

Re: From Megsie

If I think too much about the drooly ball, it makes me gag :P

The weather has really been just gorgeous here the past few days: totally blue blue skies, sunshine, warming temps, chilly little breezes. Lovely!


I love the word lolloping! I always say Walter lopes, but had never heard lollop before. Glad you're enjoying Mental!


I'd say the dog was definitely lolloping toward the end of the fetch session! :D A very slow lope! haha!

November 2019
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Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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