Albo P Fossa—August 21, 2019
Dog Days ended on August 11 not with a bark but a whimper.
Oh, various barks of lightning and growls of thunder came throughout—and rain piddles and hail turds. Last year’s exceptional drought seems gone in a flash. Arf!
Still the summer heat dogs us, mitigated inside by the back porch roof and Junior Tree’s growing efforts. But for now, Junior’s still a young pup. Arf!
AARP magazine arrived just the other day, reminding me of my days as a young pup. The article described the Woodstock generation, a time of great joy and high hopes. Those at Woodstock ignored the rain and muck. On the last day, an Army helicopter dropped fresh-cut flowers on the crowd.
AARP tidbits described the continuing positive effects of Woodstock on its generation (now old farts). Of Carlos Santana, Leila Cobo wrote, “The universe continues to bring him an abundance of opportunities and possibilities. And Carlos Santana is still open to receiving them.” And Carlos advised, “Strip yourself naked from anything that anyone taught you about anything. And only listen to the voice of your heart, the voice of your light.”
We’re in Dog Days now, and it’s hard to ignore the rain of heat and muck. We long for great joy and high hopes, and a shower of fresh-cut flowers.
It takes a big dog to weigh a ton. Arf!