527: Colville

On our last day of 2010, we took a small walk around Colville. This pregnancy and all its morning-sick glories have kept me indoors too much; most weeks, my journeys took me only to campus and back. I'm desperate for some sense of fresh air, of observation of the slow moving waters, creaking winter trees.

Ryan and the pups ventured out on the ice, and I quacked back at the ducks.

They say walking is a natural inducer of labor, so I suspect I'll be doing this a good deal over the next several days, waddling along flat paths in town. She's not due until Thursday, but at my forty-one week appointment, there is the threat of medical induction, so I'll take my chances with tea and walks and other gentle attempts. There's far less kicking and much more slithering about; she's truly run out of room.

In 2011, I'll be a mama. So strange. We'll be parents!

400: parental visitation

My parents came for a visit this weekend. They hadn't come since my wedding two and a half years ago, so some of our small adjustments--the rearrangement of living room furniture, the economizing of bookshelves--were a surprise. We took them to Norton's, a place I like to call "swanky" for our town, had tapas, and back home, they played their first Wii games and we ended it with the ever-popular Apples to Apples.

They brought their geriatric dog Lanie (full name: Cristalana, after some song my sister liked years ago, and I'm certain I've spelling it wrong; I shortened it to Lanie thereafter). It was her first road trip, her first time out of the city where they live, perhaps one of the few times she has been anywhere aside from the place where she was born, the vet's, and home. She was sweet and grunty and noisy and because her back legs are going out, she walks a lot like those ROUSes--an awkward galumph.

Today we went eagle watching, and my parents saw the most bald eagles at once they've ever seen before. I'd say there were maybe half a dozen, maybe eight, swooping around, inspecting the backwaters of the Mississippi. I've posted a handful more photos from our trip on the natural curiosities blog.


Despite my frozen eyelashes and my husband and my later trip into the basement to work more on insulation, it was a warm, cozy weekend. It's always good to see my parents, and I'm glad old Lanie came along.

346: walking in the snow with dogs

Took the dogs to the park by myself today. Let them off their leashes; for a while, we were the only ones there. And now, we're all watching the snow fall outside, trying to warm up from our adventure. To see field notes, feel free to check out this post on my daily walking blog.

304: Colville

We went to Colville today with the dogs, a little wander around the loop, where Ryan tortured Zephyr a bit--first with his training to "heel," but mostly on the equipment, pulling him up while he was swinging, beckoning him onto picnic tables, taunting him to jump up. Penelope is usually the one I walk, and as Ryan says, she's a bit oblivious to whether or not she is actually heeling, and I said she's a good match for me then. I tend to be a bit oblivious myself.

Summer here has been gorgeous--no need to turn the air conditioning on, the evenings cool but not too cool, the sounds of birds and crickets settling. At Colville, the city has installed a community garden, with little sections--the cook's garden, the hummingbird/butterfly garden, the fragrance garden, etc. They mayflies are out, and we watched a bald eagle swoop into the river, catch, glide.

Tonight, Ryan and I talked about being lucky. It's easy to feel that way with him.

And one week from today, we turn ten. Amazing.

187

My path up the hill is punching through icy snow; I look back, and it appears a giant has broken the crust of this white earth. When the dogs play, they burrow their muzzles into that crust, and it sounds like glass tinkling. Everything shines; the bokeh is glorious when the sun is lighting up the tips of branches. We didn't last long at the park though; it was in the single digits and the tips of our fingers, our chin, our noses began to burn and I'm still wearing my winter hat, hours later, along with two layers of socks and two pairs of flannel pajama pants. I'd crowed of how adapted to this weather I was to the incoming MFA students, those from the coast, from farther south, but this winter has been so much more brutal thus far: snowfall records being broken in neighboring states, ice storms making the backyard a rink. It's too beautiful to stay long indoors for long.