This weekend the clocks will spring ahead (that's how I remember which way to turn them) and we will begin to gain daylight into the evening hours. The mercury has climbed out of the negative digits and I can feel the increased warmth from the sun. We have had evenings of rain instead of snow and patches of hopeful grass peek out from still mounded snow. I watch robins navigate from ice caps onto dry land like explorers in the Antarctic. The other day I saw a robin slip on the ice, catch herself, give a bit of a feather shake and move on. I think that if she could speak there would be a blue streak coming from her beak. Who can help but admire these stalwart adventurers taking the early-bird-getting-the-worm to new heights? I feel slightly embarrassed when I see the Robins arrive ahead of true spring, like there might have been something I could have done to forewarn them of what they were flying into.
Suddenly there is more bird chatter in the morning air as I head out to do chores and I can slip off my gloves for more than a few minutes without my fingers going numb. When I am finished I walk back into our hay storage to drop off my bag o' shavings and bucket and, without fail, find Muir lying next to the ATV looking up, hopefully, expectantly, his tail swishing back and forth like a windshield wiper. Now that he has recovered from his neutering procedure, we have returned to our morning routine.
My philosophy with my dogs, young and old, has always been that a tired dog is a good dog. Border collies require consistent work and exercise, including in the winters. Sam and Bronte, being older, are quite content with our hikes in the woods or playing ice hockey in the road. Muir, at just a year old, not so much. Each day, years ago when I was training Sam at a sheep farm in Virginia, the shepherd would ride around her farm on her ATV, a dog or two or three racing along beside, or more likely ahead of her. She told me that it was a great way to give her dogs some exercise while also getting some needed work done. I adopted this idea with Muir and he began running alongside us in our pasture as a pup in the summer and didn't see any reason why we should stop this just because there was a bit (or a foot) of snow on the ground. So, to keep both of us philosophically happy, I continued this routine into the frigid months of the winter. Each cold morning I don my red union suit, complete with flap, Buffalo check farm jacket, wool socks and Mucks. I jam a tight wool hat on my head and pull a neck warmer over it all. For the piece de resistance I grab my trusty Red Baron goggles and head out. When Muir sees me dressed like this, his ears go up, and when he sees the ATV key around my neck he begins to wail. It is a happy cry that begins with a bit of yapping and expands into full blown, open mouth howling. I stand and watch him and know that I could stop him, should stop him, but it is so damn cute and full of joy that I just can't bring myself to do much more than a good-natured grumble at him as I walk past.
I get onto the ATV and back out of the space. He lies still and eyeballs me. Once I am backed around and pointed in the right direction he begins to spin around in circles, think circus spins. I give him the command “Go” and he is off.
I have visions of neighbors down the road seeing a very brief flash of black and white, and in his wake me hanging onto the handle bars of the ATV, full-on goggled. “Come quick. You HAVE to see this...”
A lot of people can't wait for winter to be over and done with. Not me. I do love the cold and snow but it might be more about what I am most familiar with. In Vermont, winter can physically begin in late October and not end until mid-May. That is seven plus months of hunker-down. Our wood stove only sits silent for 2 months of the year. I like my flannel sheets and wool blankets. I prefer heavy socks to bare feet, icicles to black flies. When it gets dark earlier we settle in sooner and stop work earlier. There are soups to be made in the battered old crock pot and I like my tea hot versus iced.
Not to worry, I will enjoy the spring and the languid days of summer. But it won't be just Muir eyeballing the goggles and wool hat hanging on the coat rack.
Melissa Perley