Monday, February 18, 2008

he's no walk in the park

What a great weekend. The weather was perfect. The sky was cloudless. And sun -- sun in February -- in Oregon. A true luxury.

The temperature probably did not get to 60, but it was shirt sleeve weather all three days of this weekend when we celebrate the existence of -- the presidency, I guess. No matter whether good or bad, everyone gets a prize. George Washington is no better than Millard Fillmore, and Abraham Lincoln did nothing more than Warren Harding. Almost like a 21st century suburb soccer team. No winners. No losers.

But Jiggs and I were not celebrating presidents. We were celebrating indolence. This was a three day bacchanalia of eating, reading, and sitting in the sun.

And walking in the sun. Jiggs and I took more spins around the park in the last three days than we usually do in a week. Beth of Minto Dog stopped by with her dog Gracie. We made another park circuit, and the aged Jiggs put on his best alpha impression for her -- Gracie, that is. She was not fooled. She knows a codger when she sees one.

I added this last picture as a tribute to Andee -- who I still speak and think of often. She loved photographs of doors. And I understand why. They are the very metaphor of life. There are so many, and they all open onto new adventures.

1 comment:

Alan said...

Steve, a comment from a wise poet is brought to mind

Life is a series of pathways and doorways.

The doorway to life is always open; with welcoming arms she calls you in.
Some doors are large and some are small, but no matter the size they have one thing in common.
To let you in to a room or a garden, a new slant on life that's sure to be different.
A door to a church where we go to pray, a door to a heart where we long to stay.
Red doors or brown doors, tin ones or wooden, some with bars and padlocks to form a prison.
I remember a door in a small town in Cornwall with a porch made of wood, surrounded by creepers,
so quaint, so welcoming, so olde world charming.
A door to a cottage built long long ago.
Doorways to pubs and doorways to schools;
No matter our age, our gender or colour, we all go through doors on our way to our goals.
We have to enter new doors each fresh day to take us forever onwards;
To open new chapters in life's endless search for avenues of learning.

Tricia McGill Author