PROGRESS

Yesterday we spent the entire day loading, hauling, splitting, and stacking firewood. The fact that Myladylove and I are temporarily semi-crippled, beat, battered, sore and aching in places we'd forgot we had—doesn't override the satisfaction of the work completed. Yes, we gimp…but we gimp smugly. 

We're not through with out wood chores, however. There are still several pickup loads of wood remaining to be hauled down from the neighbor's yard. Plus a lot of big stuff yet to split. Nevertheless, yesterday's endeavors made a big and satisfying dent in the project. 

Moon remains on the mend. She seems a bit worn out today—probably from too many hours outside yesterday supervising our labors, along with too much time rolling in the leaves, and several protracted sessions of tail-wagging welcome when Everitt—the neighbor who gave us the great supply of wood—walked down to see how were were doing. 

Autumn continues to advance, of course. Most of the leaves are now down, though a few reluctant sycamore leaves still cling to the trees along the river. Too, there are hackberries whose leaves remain surprisingly green and intact. Frost night before last got my zinnias and canna lilies, but one of the roses is still decorated with bight red blooms and the marigolds gleam a brilliant orange. Sometime during the next couple of days, I'll have to dig those canna lily roots up and store them away until next spring.

Another task, on a list which seems endless. Yesterday morning, before we started on the wood, I rewired one of the baseboard heaters in the great room. Now it looks like I'm going to have to pull up and replace the bathroom floor thanks to a leaky toilet. And I'm hoping to get a woodstove in before the end of the month…though I've have to build a hearth first. Still, things do get done, jobs completed. Progress is somehow managed, in spite of sore backs, aching muscles, and a paucity of available cash. 

Now, I believe I'll crawl down the hall and look for that TO DO list….  

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GREAT NEWS!

The view upstream from the cottage just before sunset, a few minutes after we got back.

Because so many of you have been genuinely concerned and extraordinarily kind in your comments over the past couple of weeks, I just wanted to quickly share the great news re. Moon-the-Dog.

My fine old dog and I have just returned from the animal hospital in Cincinnati, where she had her 60-plus staples removed, along with follow-up blood work done to make sure the white-cell and liver counts were back where they should be and that no bile was showing up where it shouldn't following her emergency gall-bladder removal two weeks ago. 

The odds originally were not good, but today's news simply couldn't be better! Everything looks great, the staples came out fine, the incision is healing well. Moon can now get out and take walks and do those dog-of-the-manor activities at which she excels. I can quite worrying so much and possibly get a bit more sleep. The E-collar can go into the closet unless she starts excessively licking her still-healing scar.

God knows how we'll pay for all this…but hey, caring for your family and counting dollars does not equate. You do what's necessary and deal with the aftermath. 

Needless to say, I'm happier than I've been in weeks! 

Again, I want to thank you one and all for your many wonderful words and prayers and thoughts; they were most appreciated. I've repeatedly thanked everyone—surgeons and staff—at the C.A.R.E. Center for their wonderful work and personal support—the way they've called and kept in touch, been straight about things from the get-go, and willing to answer my many questions. But finally, I don't want to be remiss and fail to also thank God for taking care of my dog, Myladylove, and myself during this entire crisis. 

I am so truly grateful.   

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SLOW-GOING BLUES

I've been at my desk since breakfast, puttering away at a column for the Sunday paper. It's been rather hard going, which I choose to blame on the yet-to-materialize predicted rain. First the National Weather Service said an 80 percent chance of showers. They later dropped to 70 percent, and then to 50 percent. Now they've revised back up to 60 percent.

It's not that I particularly want rain. It's that no rain has meant a day which began as sunny, and though it has since gradually turned cloudy, is still a 68˚F day which looks constantly enticing through my deskside window. I want to chuck this writing task, go outside, and play…or at least kick around the new-fallen leaves, watch the river slip softly along, and breathe deep of the autumn-scented air. 

That's what I want to do—that and take my fine old dog for a walk. Unfortunately, Moon is not supposed to be doing much walking other than whatever brief ambles necessary to manage her business, while I'm on deadline and must have my piece in this evening. 

Any other day, I'd already be done with my work. It seldom takes me more than a couple of hours to write my column. Then, I give it an hour's rest—eat a snack, walk the dog, make a few casts in the Cottage Pool for smallmouth—before returning for a fresh read and edit and afterwards zapping the finished piece off. On a typical day I'd have accomplished that hours ago. Especially if it had rained.

But, as I said, I've been seriously distracted…by gray squirrels scrabbling amongst the leaves, chipmunks dashing along flowerbed rocks, birds at the feeders, and the long, sparkling sweep of moving river I only have to look up to see beyond my deskside window. Who knows when I'll finish!

P.S. I made the sparrow and downy shots earlier, which shows how long I've been suffering…

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UPDATE, OPTIMISM, OWL

Last week was a sort of time-warped paradox—both numbingly tedious, and flying past like a highballin' freight train in one headlong rush. I suppose that's a result of worry and the pressure from the enforced routine of staying in taking care of Moon-the-Dog. 

I'm hoping this week will see things getting back to some semblance of normalcy, though even during the best of times, "normal" is a hard-to-define term hereabouts.

As an update, Moon is doing much better. The weekend turned out nice, and as one of our neighbors had generously loaned a hydraulic splitter, Myladylove and I spent quite a bit of time turning huge log "rounds" into manageable chunks of firewood.  Moon got to come outside with us on several occasions—generally for a "meet and greet" with the neighbors, whom she loves seeing. For the past couple of days she's been eating on her own, and is much perked up in her behavior. She's now taken all the medications the vets sent home with her following surgery. I'll have to take her to Cincinnati on Friday to have the 60 or so staples removed and some blood work done to make sure liver and white cell counts are back to normal, and that there's no sign of bile in the stomach since her "replumbing." But my beloved old dog seems to be doing really well, and I'm optimistic the news will be good.

I'm also hoping I'll be able to get out in the woods and fields before the final autumn leaf comes down. I've missed almost two weeks of photo-rambling time. However, in truth, this hasn't been much of year for fall color. Here along the river the tans and golds have finally dominated the greens…though plenty of green is still out there. 

The barred owl photo is from an earlier excursion to a small patch of woods up the road.

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UPDATE ON MOON-THE-DOG

Moon on the side deck the day before her surgery; you can tell she's not feeling good.

First off, Moon-the-Dog is back home, resting, and (I hope) slowly improving—though not yet out of danger from post surgical complications. Nor have we yet heard back from all the tests. 

Here's the story…

Moon has not been doing well for some time. After a visit to the family vet's on Wednesday, and no clue as to what was going on from the blood work she ran following that check-up, last Friday afternoon I had to rush Moon to an emergency care center in northern Cincinnati (a bit over an hour from the cottage) for an ultrasound. This is a huge and absolutely remarkable, state-of-the-art facility serving the tri-state. Dozens of general veterinary doctors, surgeons, therapists, oncologists, and various specialists on staff, along with nurses, assistants, service staff and secondary caregivers—all available or on-call for 24/7 service. 

The ultrasound revealed that Moon's gall bladder was enlarged, blocked with congealed bile, and either about-to rupture, or already doing so. This required immediate emergency surgery to remove the gall bladder, as it was an acute condition and life threatening…hours, vs. days. So I left her there and drove home; they did the workup followed by the two-hour surgery, finishing just after midnight. 

This is a serious condition, major surgery, and comes with a 50 percent post-op survival risk. I was mighty relieved when the surgeon called to tell me Moon came through the operation.  

One of the many wonderful things about this place is that you can call any time, day or night, to check on your dog. I called about daylight on Saturday, and was told she had made the night, and was at least holding her own if not improving slightly—though it was still a bit early to tell. I also talked to the surgeon later, after she'd completed her rounds, and she thought Moon was doing okay, but reiterated that we were still in the critical period. Later that afternoon, Myladylove and I went down to see her. She looked awful, of course, given what she'd been through only a few hours before, how sick she'd been prior to the surgery, all the meds she was now on, plus the shaved belly and 50–60 staples holding the incision closed. She wouldn't eat, but was at least still alive.

The worst of the post-surgical risk comes during the first 3-4 days. Moon continued to improve Sunday—an improvement we could see when we again went down to vist; this time we managed to get some some baby food in her via a syringe. They syringe fed her again that evening, and also Monday morning. After talking with the vet, and it was decided I could bring her home yesterday afternoon…which I did. She looked noticeably better than she had on Sunday. She rode well in the makeshift bed I fixed for her, seemed glad to be home, though is weak, sore, and still much in the midst of having had such a serious gall bladder issue and surgery. 

Today she seems about the same as yesterday. Sleeping on a padded bed in my writing room most of the time, with the occasional brief outside potty break. I'm hand-feeding her and giving her her meds at the appointed hour. She's not out of the woods yet, but her odds are certainly improving—barring infections and a half-dozen other complications, and any unforeseen news from the tests. Maybe in the next day or two I'll get her to begin eating on her own. I have to take her back next week to check on various organ functions and replumbing matters. Then a week after that to have the staples removed. 

Time will tell, as it always does…but I sure feel better than I have in days, though I could use a nap. 

Finally…to each and every one of you who wrote, let me say you'll never know how much I appreciated your kind words and encouraging comments. Thank you so, so much. 

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WHY I HAVEN'T POSTED…

I apologize for my recent lack of posts. Things have been in something of a mess here since Monday, when Moon-the-Dog suddenly became quite ill. I've been worried, distracted, and busy trying to care for her and keep up with my usual work. After a trip to the vet, we still have no idea what's going. We are currently waiting the blood work results to see if they provide any answers. 

Autumn continues to claim the lanscape here along the river, though it's becoming apparent this will not be a banner year for leaf color. Our hot, dry summer which morphed into a warm, dry autumn is not optimum weather when it comes to dazzling leaves.

Anthocyanin  pigments, which gives the reds, purples, scarlets, and crimsons—Virginia creeper, sumac, nannyberry, dogwood, and sweetgum, among others—are best produced by bright, sunny days and crisp nights. Unseasonably warm weather, with daytime highs often exceeding the 80˚F mark, and balmy nights, favors the carotenoids, yielding mostly yellows, golds, and oranges…which is what we have this time around. And the overall lack of ground moisture means many of our leaves are already falling. That brilliant gold walnut I photographed for my previous post dropped all its leaves two days later. 

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BLUE SKY, YELLOW WALNUT

If I were a painter of nature and outdoor scenes, I would become thoroughly depressed come fall. For then, above all other times and seasons, I'd be faced with my total inability to render autumn's breathtaking light and colors into a credible likeness by merely daubing pigments on canvas. 

Nature makes a mockery of the greatest artists, the most God-given talents. No painter who ever lived—or ever shall live—comes close to getting it right. No photographer, either, for that matter. 

Yesterday, after we'd finished hauling and stacking firewood, and were gimping our way around the cottage to the deck and rocking chairs where we intended to sit a spell, watch the river, moan and groan from our new aches and pains, and contemplate whether we'd be able to clean and dress ourselves and drag our sorry carcasses out to dinner…I looked up the little hill and was stopped in my tracks by the sight of a little walnut tree by the road. 

The walnut's leaves were a gleaming golden-yellow. The sky a rich azure blue. Two colors; two elements. Magical light. A scene that was simplicity itself, and one which had me standing and gaping. It was incredible, awesome, magnificent! A wonder for the eyes and a blessing for the soul. 

And impossible to paint, photograph…or describe. Mankind in all his cleverness will never create anything so beautiful. All we can do is be thankful such treasures are ours to enjoy. 

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