The Saturday afternoon fresh air and sunshine beckoned irresistably, and as soon as I could, I put on my walking shoes, stocked my pockets with biodegradable bags for clean ups on the way, and tried to find a dog that wanted to go for a walk. I didn't have to look far!
Ever since returning from England late on Tuesday evening, I have been adjusting to a world that is still just emerging from winter, having left behind spring in full swing. The grass there was green, but here in Ontario the fields and lawns are still the colour of corn husks, the green still hiding in the roots of the golden grass.
Molson trotted beside me with a spring in his paws, so happy to be outside. Eager brown eyes glanced up at me now and again, while his pink tongue lolled from the side of his smiling mouth.
My Walkman was playing some of my favourite north African music--a CD titled, From Cairo to Casablanca--and while an observer would have seen a tall woman, striding along, long blond hair streaming behind her in the breeze, the sensual, exotic rhythm of Arabic music was pulsing in her ears, and as she waited for her dog to finish sniffing a particularly delicious patch of ground, she was swaying and her foot was tapping to the music only she could hear.
Close to home I let Molson off his leash for the last short distance, while he waited to take his folded leash in his mouth. He proudly carried it, his tail cutting wide, happy swathes; a golden brush, sweeping from side to side.
A day of simple, ordinary things: laundry, shopping, sorting out our tax information, chatting with friends and family on the phone, a movie at home with Paul--and a walk with a good friend with a pink nose.
A day of gratitude for God's goodness and many blessings.