THE SKY ABOVE, THE DOGS BELOW

The sky tossed us a freaky snowstorm (twelve inches!) the day before Thanksgiving, but within the week all the snow that fell had completely disappeared.  Since Christmas, or as far back as the first official days of winter, we haven’t experienced serious winter weather.  I mean the real thing, winter the way it’s expected to be in Vermont, the way everyone imagines it–stormy, snowy, cold.  We are certainly ready.  We look at the cloudy skies–and they have been cloudy a lot– with hope: we have cross-country skis, downhill skis, snowshoes, our tractor is outfitted with a huge snow blower and chains, and snow shovels are at the ready aside the front door. But, alas, we have only had dustings of snow strewn like confectionary sugar that are either blown away or melted by the next day.  Our pond is in a pattern of freeze, thaw and refreeze.  (Interestingly, the water that was so muddy in summer is now clear.) We managed a taste of downhill skiing one day last week in pretty good conditions, although trail choices were very limited and cross-country was out of the question.  We find ourselves looking more to the beauty of our dark storm-less clouds and our magenta and ochre sunsets than our drab snowless landscape.

Two dogs live here now.  A few days before Christmas we added Rufus, an eight-year-old beagle from the Addison County Humane Society, to the household.  There were three beagles there at the time, a two-year old, a middle-aged guy, and an older guy.  The young beagle was insanely excitable, the middle-aged one walked all over Harry and pulled on his leash like the dickens, but the older guy was “just right.”  At the shelter he bore the uninspiring name of “Bud.”  Since he was said to have been a stray in Panton with no additional back story, we figured “Bud” was just a throw-away “hey, bud” kind of name.  So we renamed him Rufus.  Rufus been a fast learner of “Rufus,” since he surely thinks it means some kind of food.

Tiered seating, Rufus below, Harry above

Beagleness is a state we didn’t know much about, but we’re learning.  An acute and sensitive nose is what being a beagle is about.  Smelling is more important than seeing, luckily for Rufus whose eyesight needs some improvement.  (A trip to a canine ophthalmologist is on the schedule.) Beagles also come supplied with a tremendous howl.  Fortunately for us Rufus doesn’t feel the need to say very much in this loud voice (we’ve only heard it at full volume once, briefly, at the vet’s).  He’s considerate of Harry, obedient, friendly, and low key.  Age is a factor.  Although Christmas was spent with a large crowd in Newburyport, preceded by a long car trip, Rufus took everything in stride even though it was only our third day together.

Audrey with Rufus and Harry on Rufus' first day