Baxter Pays a Holiday Visit

Dear George,

Baxter came for a visit when Jennifer and her family took a holiday trip to New Mexico.  Katja, still grieving the loss of our sheepdogs, was wary about having a new dog in the house, but Baxter's smile won her over in a minute.  

I took a lot more healthy walks than I normally do.  Baxter's not that large but he has the strength of a dynamo.  

Baxter hung around with us in the house.  Here he is napping while I fiddle with the computer.

He did remind us when mealtime was approaching.  

Actually Baxter was most interested in human food.  (He gobbled up a bowl of milk chocolates and stole a quarter pound of turkey off the plate while I was eating.) 

Baxter also spent a lot of time staring at doors or walls.  His family speculates that he is standing guard. 

Here he watches Katja blow-dry her hair.  

Or joins Katja to watch Jeopardy on TV.   

Not interested in the Bengals-Steelers game though.   Just as well.   

Baxter gives a big yawn.  

He has a very comfortable bed.  

However, he begged to get into bed with the humans.  

Very hard to resist such a plea.   

Baxter is happy when his dream comes true .

Baxter's family returned last night and he went home.  We do miss him.  But perhaps he will come to visit again in the New Year.  That's a good New Year's wish.
Love,
Dave

A Christmas Dream

Last night I had a perfect dream 

The doorbell rang on Christmas Eve

And there on the stoop

Were my mom and dad

I couldn’t believe it

They were just as I remembered from my childhood

Young and healthy, loving, fun

My mother full of laughter and high spirits

My dad with his shy grin and quirky jokes 

Then right behind them

My brothers Steven and Peter 

My brother-in-law George

All home to visit from far away

Overjoyed to be together after so many years 

Vicki and Katja came in

And Margie and Faith and Gayle

All of Vic’s and Doris’s grandkids with their families

The first time everyone was together at once 

My dad and I went across the road

And chopped down a handsome white pine

We hauled it back and took it to the auto body shop

Where Vic had it spray-painted white

Soon to be covered in home-made ornaments

The children frolicked in the foot-deep snow 

Making snowmen and snow angels 

Throwing snowballs at the Norway Pines 

Our Irish setters, Mike and Micki, racing about 

Our NOLA grandchildren, V and L, had never seen so much snow 

Steven made us all Manhattans and Old-Fashioneds

We munched on sardines and creamed herring 

And traded memories of Christmases past

Peter, of course, remembered more than anybody

Steven teased Vicki about her childhood

And she gave him a stiff punch in the arm 

Doris was busy cooking a turkey in the kitchen 

Katja made the stuffing

Margie, the sweet potatoes and green beans

And Doris, of course, her beloved Schaum Torte 

I played the Hammond Chord Organ

Everyone sang “Silent Night”

And “We Three Kings of Orient Are”

(My terrible singing voice actually sounded much better than usual) 

Soon my grandfather, aunts and uncles, and cousins arrived

Uncle Ralph brought perfume samples from the drugstore

Uncle Karl, elegant gifts for the ladies

Family friends too

The O’Haras, the St. Peters, the Worths, the Caleys

So warm, so thankful

We opened family gifts

Steven got a BB gun

Vicki, a baby rabbit 

Finally we all drifted off to sleep

Ready for Santa’s visit 

It was the best Christmas ever 

Seasons on the Menominee River: A Sestina

Our home on the river sat alone in the forest

Acorns from the great oaks, strewn through the yard

We first got our water from a pump in the driveway 

Four children, a few porcupines, our Irish setter dogs 

Father took us for picnics to Indian Island with our boat

Like the turtles and crayfish, we were denizens of the river 

January brought foot-thick ice on the river 

We crossed to Pig Island, followed deer tracks in the forest

Buried beneath a snowdrift, our beloved green boat

Each new snowfall, barefoot races through the yard  

Ice in their paws, hearts thumping, our brave dogs

Come dark we huddled near the fireplace in the house 

Easter morning, a bunny visit, painted eggs in our house 

Then Chinese Bells Day, clinking ice chunks filled the river

We braved the old road with our bikes and the dogs

Brought our mother blue violets from deep in the forest 

Or dandelions that popped up all over our yard

The arrival of spring, the thrilling launching of our boat 

Summertime, we set off to the channel in the boat

Between river and woods, we barely lived in our house

Steve and I did overnights in a pup tent in the yard 

We constructed a log raft for diving in the river

And I built my camp hidden back in the forest

Forbidden to my family, but welcome to dogs  

Autumn, now cooler, near perfect for dogs

We fished for perch and guppies in the boat

And gathered red and gold leaves from the forest

Ghost stories at the fireplace at night in our house

We’d ended our season of swimming in the river

Replaced it with basketball, touch football in the yard  

All these memories of our house, river, yard

And lingering affection for our long-gone dogs 

Our lives were shaped by growing up on the river

We were pirates on the high seas in our trustworthy boat 

Savored whitefish and meatloaf at suppertime in our house 

Few spots more enticing than our great U.P. forest 

Acorn fights in the yard, expeditions in our boat

Camping with the dogs, playing basketball at our house 
We grew up on the river in the heart of the forest

Winter Camping at Our House

Dear George, 

The other day we carried some kitchen stuff down to store in the basement, and Katja alertly spotted a pool of water underneath our furnace boiler.  That seemed abnormal so we called the furnace people, and they sent Jason over later in the day.  After checking it out, he came upstairs with the unpleasant news that the boiler was shot and would have to be replaced.  He added that the broken unit was giving off carbon monoxide and that we should turn it off.  Carbon monoxide, he reminded us, kills people in their house.  (As we learned later, Jason had had to leave the basement because he couldn’t breathe.)   

A second technician, Joel, came the next day to assess our boiler needs.  By then the temperature in the house had dropped from 70 to 62 (not terrible, but chillier than our preference).  Joel determined that we needed a new boiler that would be about the price of a compact car.  He recommended their top of the line unit which would certainly last twenty years or more.  I thought to myself, “We won’t be in this house (or even on this Earth) twenty years from now,” but Joel was persuasive.  He determined that they would need to order the new boiler from out of town and that it would take at least a week to get it.  Katja, disturbed by the prospect of no heat for a week, said she would just run the old boiler till then.  Joel reminded us that the boiler was spewing out carbon monoxide and that we would die in a day or two. 

After the initial shock wore off, I decided that this could be a fun adventure — sort of like winter camping in our own house.  We went to the mall and purchased a couple of space heaters, one big and one medium.  For all of the immense good that they do, space heaters aren’t that expensive — $50 and $100.   The big one kept our bedroom at a cozy 70 degrees last night, and the medium one works excellently in the computer room.  The rest of the house has dropped to 58 and appears to be on a steady decline.  Joel said to call him if our in-house temperature drops below 32 because they will have to come and drain the pipes.  Our weather forecast calls for a low of 27 by Monday.  We won’t die of carbon monoxide (unless Katja secretly turns the heat back on), but there is some risk of being frozen to death.

Love,

Dave

Gray December Days

Dear George,

December has arrived, and the days are gray and chilly in Cincinnati.  Nonetheless, the forest is looking beautiful, as it does in all of its seasons.  Muted browns and grays, leafless trees which allow for expanded views to the horizon.  Here are some December photos of Burnet Woods, the mid-city urban wilderness some four or five blocks down from our house.  

Love,

Dave