I should probably have called this post The Hunt for Dry October. Because since September, you can count the number of days without rain on your fingers. So it was something of a small miracle that during my Fall break, it was sunny and dry. The week started mild, with golden and burnt orange leaves whipped through the air by the wind. The same wind howled through the night, driving in a cold front that parked itself over the land for the rest of the week.
I recently made a ‘Dogs’ page on my site. I thought that it would be nice to have all the dog-related posts in one place, to come back to. I write a lot about those two, since they are probably the best part of my life. I have quite a few posts for Prunie, but none for Suzi, just for her. Which doesn’t mean she is any less special. Its probably because in April, her birthday month, I’m either studying for exams or of late, writing reports. But no more excuses, its Suzi’s turn.
During the summer holidays I finally had a bit of free time. Time to read, to watch clouds pass languidly across the sky, to watch the dogs sniff about the garden, as butterflies buzzed around them. To draw. Maya gave me a very helpful book with lots of tips to draw animals. I always struggle with their eyes and by making them more cartoonish, as the book suggests, you can avoid that problem, and make them very cute.
You’re sitting next to me, sniffing the air, ears pricked up. Was there an untoward sound in the neighbourhood? You get up, stretch, ask to have your chin scratched. Then you sigh, groan and lie down, letting the late summer sun wash over your fur. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect. You sigh again. Its just another day to you, but for us, its a big deal. You are 10. Happy Birthday, Prune.
I never thought I would say this but, it can actually get too hot. Like when its 39.6 degrees and there is no air conditioning. When the air is so warm and dry, it settles on your skin like a blanket. When the sky is a consistent, indifferent blue, like even the clouds can’t be bothered with the effort of crossing the sky. When at three in the afternoon, it is still everywhere, and by sunset, it is still scorching. The European Heatwave, which brought record-breaking temperatures to Western Europe.
They were all dressed in black. “Its like a funeral”, they said. The Death of the Year. Nervous laughter, an anxious wait to be called to the stage. Its crazy to think my first year of teaching is over. It could still be that first day, standing in my empty class with not enough tables for the 28 kids I would soon inherit. Trying to navigate playground duty with a dodgy foot, hastily learning names and how best to teach maths, how to get their attention when they’re running wild in gym class.
The cow and I were staring at each other. The inevitable tractor had made me quickly pull my bike over, right up next to her. She eyed me curiously, probably wondering what my problem was. Behind her, a whole herd of chocolate-splodged dairy cows, contentedly grazing green pasture, and a sign advertising free-range milk.
I was trying to decide whether the sky or the water were more blue. Until my thoughts were interrupted by some cold drops splashing my bare legs. Dad and I were in the middle of the Grevelingenmeer, a huge body of water which is in fact a lake although it could pass for the sea, so vast and endless it is. There we were, in a bright orange kayak, a stark contrast to the blue all around us.