Shar-pei Surprise

It's cloudy and 25 degrees outside. The Flatirons and Flagstaff Mountain look brooding - they have their bare red-brown rock, dark evergreen trees, and patches of snow in shadowed areas. It is amazing how a little bit of sunlight can make the scene change. I've already walked 5 miles, and stopped by Safeway on the way home to pick up cat food, kitty treats, peanuts for the squirrels, and the local Sunday newspaper. We're supposed to hit the mid-40s today; it's snowing on the western slope, and we might get some flurries tomorrow afternoon.

The kits had a fine old time playing tag yesterday afternoon; but I think we all shared in the surprise. After one of their dashes back inside, I looked and both kits were fluffed. I heard something on the patio, and glancing out the window, was amazed to see an extremely large Sahr-pei investigating the doorway. He could only get his head inside; his shoulders were too bulky to fit through the "kit crack." It was a surprise because when I first moved in, I was told there were 2 dogs in the building, but only cats were allowed. Then no pets were allowed, except for those of us who were already in situ; apparently dogs are now allowed, too...

As usual at this time of year, I'm suffering a longing for both Gainesville and Chincoteague. I think this is rather odd because I didn't like the heat and humidity at either place during the summer, and Assateague and Chincoteague are frequently lashed by cold winds off the surrounding waters during the fall and winter (which I don't particularly like, either). Perhaps it is the people, sights, sounds and smells that I miss. I miss the mixed scrub forests of north-central Florida, the pale sandy soil, and the opossums and armadillos. I miss the smell of pines and the smell of ponds in woods, possibly with a 'gator in residence. I miss Leonardo's Pizza and the hustle and bustle of the "crossroads of the world" at University Avenue and 13th Street. On Chincoteague and Assateague I miss the constant call of the gulls and the smell of the sea and the peculiar tang of Chincoteague marsh mud. I miss being able to lose myself on Assateague - going off the trails and finding a quiet spot to commune with nature. I miss being able to lose myself in the sea-faring ways of my ancestors. And, from both places, I miss my adopted families and friends most.

Banichi is chasing an imaginary bug in the grass and Lovey just came running in, talking to me, and branding my chest with her muddy paw prints. I'm reading a new Death on Demand mystery; plan on making a pot of meatballs and sauce tomorrow; and in mid-week, I'll be walking the Irish kids. Next weekend, I'll be at Kathy and Jim's as they go to Phoenix to run in the marathon. Jim is already entered into the Boston Marathon in April, so my calendar is marked for that one, also. Last night we had a perigee full moon - the closest the moon has come to the earth in many years - and it was beautiful. How do I know? I peeked out at the moon at 11 p.m.; I was looking through pictures from Chincoteague and Assateague until after 3 this morning... Have a quiet Sunday. (Go Eagles! - I just couldn't resist!)