Burn

Spoiler Alert & Disclaimer - Severe whining and complaints about warm weather and sunshine.  Writer's exact location remains anonymous for her protection from those of you still caught in winter's grasp.  

I want to blame Texas.  Yeah, the whole state.  I want to blame springtime and Mother Nature.  I want to blame Matty for taking me to a car show at the Texas Motor Speedway.  But I have only one person to blame - myself.

As much as I love the rebirth of the trees, grass and flowers, I dread the Texas heat.  We're moving from Brown Season to Green Season here.  During the winter months, North Texas turns brown.  The trees, the grass, the bushes and scrub, even the roads look brown.  We've dubbed this "Brown Season" in our home.  As the season changes and the wildflowers begin to bloom in the think tufts of new green grass, the sun is slowly, silently getting stronger.  I've noticed the soil cracking where it used to be lush and moist.  No longer so.  These are the sweet, rich days of spring.  The shortest, most bittersweet season in Texas.  Everyone knows what's looming - the heat!

Resident ducks basking in Brown Season's brown water

So why is this significant, you ask?  I'll tell you, but it won't be pretty.

We went to a huge (everything's bigger in Texas) custom car show in Justin, TX this past weekend.  The skies were overcast when we left home but soon turned sunny as we arrived, a light breeze blowing endlessly.  The show was actually quite fun.  I especially enjoyed watching Matty pass on to his daughter the love he has for cars.  For all things mechanical and driven.  For all those things I take for granted.  We arrived there around 11am, and didn't leave until around 5pm when Matt noticed Taylor's arms looking a bit pink, and my chest and shoulders looking reddish.  After seeing all the interesting old cars and enjoying some of the old school Rockabilly culture, we headed towards home with a few stops along the way.

Matty and T

My favorite.  Can't you just see the girls' co-piloting for me?

Yup - those are coolers they're riding.  The motors are pretty fast on those things!

This is my 2nd choice favorite.  No room for the girls, though...

We dropped by a hobby store manned by a single shopkeeper, whose eyes widened as we walked in.
"Got a bit of sun today, huh?" he grinned.

I really hadn't looked at myself since the morning and a quick check in the mirror revealed what he saw.  I was a rebel red lobster!  All the skin that had been exposed throughout the day was fire engine red.  I groaned, knowing the pain would come fast and hard.

Clearly not me, but Will Ferrell demonstrating my misery and raising awareness for a good cause, www.cancerforcollege.com  

At home, I applied aloe, and took some Advil.  And waited.  Sunday was uncomfortable and painful.  I made Flower Pup collars all day and found that sitting fairly still was a grand idea.  Sunday night the pain intensified.  I tried a cool shower and almost came undone. I was scheduled to work Monday afternoon, but since trying to put on a sweatshirt to take the girls out that evening resulted in tears, I called in sick.  Monday evening the blisters started and I had chills whenever I moved too much.  The girls lay beside me in bed, vigilant and worried.  The unspoken understanding of weakness in a pack member.  Each time I got up, Nyxie would watch me with lowered head.  I'm quite sure "broiled" isn't what she's used to smelling from me.  Arwen just snuggled closer.

Mom...?

I knew I couldn't be wrestling any creatures at work the way I was feeling so I called out sick again on Tuesday. I felt so ridiculous.  I couldn't leave the house.  I couldn't even walk the dogs comfortably.  They're used to walkies on Mom Stay At Home days.  Not these days.  I hid from the sun like a mole.  Both Monday and Tuesday started out overcast, settling into sunny skies in the afternoons.  My blinds have been shut.

Yesterday I went to work.  It hurt.  But I bought sunscreen on the way home.

As I write this on a warm, breezy and sunbeam filled day, my skin reminds me to stay indoors.  I'm physically nervous to go outdoors.  I had a disagreement with the sun.  I thought there'd be a few more days, weeks, even a month or two to prepare.  I was wrong.  You might be pale, you may need more gym time, you may need to make summer camp plans.  But more time is a luxury you just don't have.  Ready or not, spring is here.  I'm ready now.  I have my sunscreen.

Celebrate

Frost stretched across the clearing behind our home this morning, and true mist hovered just above the stream.  The mist stretched across the clearing, obscuring the far side.  I imagined coyotes stealing away a few more undetected minutes before the sun rose, watching us, watching for them.

Fall is brief in northern Texas, but it's my favorite season.  There's a feeling, an essence to each season that sets the tone for the days ahead.  Winter is a time of rest, of survival.  We dig deep and layer, holding close to those we love.  Spring reminds us that life weathers on, regardless of winter, regardless of pale legs.  Summer days and nights have an air of electricity, of life, of having reached a pinnacle of sorts.  Our weary, sunburned shoulders testament to how hard and long we played in the sun.  When we lived in Maine, spring was like an oasis in the drought of winter.  We were moles, ascending from our caves into the bright sunlight.  Pale skin and sunglasses on, we ventured out to see the neighbors that we scurried past all winter, back and forth into our respective warm homes.

The seasons define the cycle of growth, life, death and rebirth.  We lose sight of this fundamental cycle in a world of iPads, highways, and work schedules.  There's a disconnect there.  Sadly, I think we all feel it, and to get us back on track, we need holidays.  I'm not referring to the commercialized urge to shop, to decorate and to guilt ourselves out of our honest-earned income.  I'm referring to the essence of the holidays themselves.  Each one, starting with Halloween, gives us the opportunity to stop and think, to catch our collective breath and think about the greater picture.

Halloween is the direct descendant of the Celtic celebration of Samhain (pronounced sow-in).  Samhain marked "summer's end", and was the time the ancient Celts believed ushered out the "light half" and ushered in the "dark half" of the year.  Also referred to as the Celtic New Year, this was a time when the veil between the world of the living and the dead was thin.  Both good and bad spirits could pass through more easily.  Family and friends now deceased were honored, while bad entities were warded off with masks and costumes.

There are many people that get sucked into the chaos of each holiday, but like all life's lessons, dogs seem to have it sorted out long before we've considered it.  When a member of a pack dies, the survivors mourn.  When the pack is reunited, they celebrate.  Dogs don't need a certain time of the year to be reminded of the gift of life.  When they wake, they bound about, licking faces, rejoicing in seeing it through to a new day.  They don't set aside a day to be thankful for their life as we do.  They thank us continually with muzzle licks, cuddles and tail wags.

Why am I posting this today?  Two nights ago, I had an awful scare from Arwen.  She ate her chicken and Honest Kitchen blend and promptly began vomiting.  Arwen never gets sick- not really, at least.  She's got an iron stomach and a tough girl's attitude.  She horked up three times in 30 min, driving me to panic.   As many of you know, we feed raw, and with raw there are certain risks.  I suspected that a bone had become lodged in her throat, or further along, and she was in dire straits.  I started imagining myself calling her Dr, my boss and friend at home, then rushing her to the emergency clinic.  I imagined her deteriorating and losing consciousness.  I imagined the enormous vet bill and racked my brain devising financially creative schemes to cover the expenses.

During a break in the vomiting, I saw she still looked uncomfortable so I did the one thing I knew would change her demeanor if at all possible.  I leashed her up, and along with Matt (not leashed), took her for a walk.  Slow at first, gaining momentum and speed, she finally raised her enormous plume flag of a tail and dove headlong into the walk.  She would be OK.  No more vomit.  No more panic.  I put my cell phone away and realized how thankful I was of having this amazing animal in my life.  I was thankful for my Matt, who indulges me through thick and thin.  We should never wait to celebrate life.  It's fleeting and precious.  Remember those that are gone and celebrate the sweetness of each moment.  Dogs do it with or without pumpkins or costumes.  In fact, they strongly discourage costumes!