THE DOG DAYS OF FALL

Breadloaf campus, on Middlebury Gap, Route 125

To get right down to it, ever since “It’s Over” (previous entry), things have been pretty crazy around here.  At the same time it has been probably the most beautiful time of year.   (Did I say that about June?).   Colors especially intense, days of sun blindingly bright and sparkling light––too much to take in at one time.

Let me explain. 

Skyler, at about 12 weeks

Our new puppy came from a shelter.  Unusual, as he’s a pure bred Brittany.  There was an elderly couple in the Stowe area that bred Brittanys and had decided to quit the breeding business.  Somehow or other there was an accidental mating.  Skyler, and four siblings, three females, two males, were the result.  The couple gave the entire litter to the North Country Animal League. The Huston family first saw the puppies at a dog-centered event at the Shelburne Museum and were smitten.  They decided they wanted a puppy.  A few days later I drove up to the Stowe animal shelter with Lesley to pick up Daisy.  I was fatefully smitten, too.  Adoption forms were handy and so I filled one out, just in case.  When I told Ken about the puppies he was ready to get one at that very moment.  The decision was made.  A week later we picked up the pup that we named Skyler.

Skyler has kept us busy.  A puppy, if you've ever had one, is like a human toddler in ability and knowledge.  And charm.

A committed lap sleeper.  

But first, the week from hell.   

All this happened at once:  Ken had a test that revealed a tumor, we adopted a puppy, surgery took place (in Burlington, some 40 minutes away), Ken developed an infection, there was a trip to our local ER (Middlebury), the puppy got sick, an emergency trip to the vet (Vergennes), Ken's infection got worse, another trip to our major ER (Burlington) where surgery had taken place, the puppy got sicker, threw up all night long (I was laundering towels at 3 in the morning), a trip to an emergency ($$$) veterinary service (Burlington, again), Ken in the hospital (the people hospital, Burlington again), me with no sleep.  Things began to improve when both Ken and puppy were home from their various hospitals.  (Puppy improved more rapidly, both physically and mentally.)  The good news: Ken's surgery successful, infection a thing of the past, and our puppy is wild and happy and sweet, just like a puppy should be.   

Skyler is keeping us on our toes.  (Or did I say that already?)

Skyler (right) and sister Daisy, in a rare moment of quiet

Tussling with his slightly larger sister at the Hustons next door is one easy way to use up some of his energy (Daisy's too), as long as one can stand the play growling and general tearing around.  But then Brittanys like activity, and having Skyler will keep encouraging us in the same direction.  The scoop on Brittanys is as follows:

“The breed was originally bred as a hunting dog and noted for being easy to train and sweet-natured. The breed is generally more sensitive to correction than other hunting breeds, and harsh corrections are often unnecessary.  Brittanys are all around sound dogs, as they are excellent family pets as well as working dogs in the field. Brittanys are eager to please, friendly, and sometimes sensitive dogs. They generally learn quickly and are loyal and attached to their owners. They are great with kids. Brittanys are energetic dogs, and need at least an hour of vigorous exercise every day. The dogs are active and require frequent exercise and room to run, and a fenced yard is essential. At least one long walk is required daily to satisfy the needs of most Brittanys, and many Brittanys will need more than this. The Brittany makes an ideal companion for an active owner.”

We have been doing a fair amount of walking, all things considered.  One nearby pleasant walking site is the Dead Creek area.  It reminds me a lot of Concord, Massachusetts' Great Meadows, next to the Concord River.  Only much bigger.

One of several ponds in the Dead Creek WIldlife Management Area

At nearby Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area, primarily a waterfowl refuge, the annual Dead Creek Day had retrieval demonstrations, among other activities relating to wildlife.   Dead Creek is a lazy collection of waters, including partially manmade impoundments, all draining into Otter Creek and ultimately Lake Champlain. With Skyler accompanying us, we could barely walk ten yards without our puppy being swarmed by admirers.  (How can anyone not stop to pet a puppy!)  Skyler watched the demonstrations of water and field retrievals and search and rescue dog performances intently, without, I suspect, learning a thing.  He also met, less happily, a pair of bear hounds.  (Yes, trained to run down and, I imagine, tree, bears.  Not something I would especially care to see.)  

All eyes are on the retriever currently in the field

Plying the Robert Frost interpretive trail on Middlebury Gap and a trek down the old Vergennes Waterworks (known to those from Bristol as the Bristol Waterworks) trail with Andy and Davey McGavern (Davey handling Daisy for this vigorous puppy workout) were more leisurely, for the adults, anyway.  The days were clear and the trees bright with reds and oranges.  

A forest trail

At the near horizon the trees on the hill have gone completely orange
(Robert Frost Interpretative Trail)

Scattered along the Robert Frost trail are some of his poems, sometimes fitting the site, other times not.  

IN HARDWOOD GROVES

The same leaves over and over again!

They fall from giving shade above,

To make one texture of faded brown

And fit the earth like a leather glove.

Before the leaves can mount again

To fill the trees with another shade

They must go down past things coming up

They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put

Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.

However it is in some other world

I know this is the way in ours.

And maybe here a birch could prompt amusing thoughts like this:

A YOUNG BIRCH

The birch begins to crack its outer sheath

Of baby green and show the white beneath,

As whosoever likes the young and slight

May well have noticed.  Soon entirely white

To double day and cut in half the dark

It will stand forth, entirely white in bark,

And nothing but the top a leafy green –

The only native tree that dares to lean,

Relying on its beauty to the air.

(Less brave perhaps than trusting are the fair.)

And someone reminiscent will recall

How once in cutting brush along the wall

He spared it from the number of the slain,

At first to be no bigger than a cane,

And then no bigger than a fishing pole,

But now at last so obvious a bole

The most efficient help you ever hired

Would know that it was there to be admired,

And zeal would not be thanked that cut it down

When you were reading books or out of town.

It was a thing of beauty and was sent

To live its life out as an ornament.

There are numerous other poems scattered here and there, but this one seems to fit the season best:

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down today.

Nothing gold can stay.

One so young, the other so old.  Harry has well over 15 years, and Skyler only two months plus.  Harry is visibly slowing down fmonth to month, breathing heavily after a bit of exercise, and, lately, snoring at night.  He is not particularly impressed by Skyler.  Rufus came and went.  As for Harry's time, we shall see.  Nothing gold can stay.