Saturday Mornings in May

Toward the end of May, the grass is at its greenest, the azalea petals have dropped, and the rain rushes in and out like tantrums, leaving the sky confused, cloudy, clear, perplexed.

This morning is peaceful. As you can see, even Saki is learning how to soak life in instead of constantly running around in circles. I like Saturday mornings before the trips to the mall and fat-food eateries and backyard arguments. Early Saturday morning is like Sunday morning used to be before shopping became the god of everything.

My life is winding down. It’s slow and still. Sleep is so beautiful. Some people think old age is a curse, but I don’t see it that way. It’s more like a letting up of all the madness—a peaceful slipping into sleep. I wake up for treats and excursions into the yard. And then I sleep again. I can hear people asking, “Is she alive?”

And I think, “Yes. I’m alive. And it’s good.”

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Shane's inside. He likes it better there.

Lunch Hour on a Sunny Day

You see that inchworm coming at me?

Shane and Saki, uhm. What are they doing anyway?

Azaleas & LIfe

Every year, somewhere in the middle of May on a sunny day, it's azalea-picture day. Shane and Saki and I get called to the front yard, directed to the big azalea bush, and told to sit. And every year, Joan says, “Wow. What beautiful colors.”

And she takes about 100 pictures.

It's a strange ritual since we think, well, if you've seen one picture of us sitting in front of the azalea bush, you've pretty much seen them all. Don't you think?

But, it's also a way we mark the passing of the years. It might seem silly, but it's kind of nice. I mean, life is just like a bush full of azalea flowers. When it blooms, it really blooms in the most spectacularly rich colors, and you think, wow, I'm glad I'm alive to see this.

And when it's not in bloom, that is, when it's just sitting there being green, you forget it's there, forget to appreciate the beauty that whirls inside of it like a great rainbow of the best secrets.

So, getting our picture taken in front of the blooming azalea is like getting our picture taken in front of life when it's at its peak of perfection. And so I think, Oh, I like being included in this.

Best wishes, Juno

Rugged Life

Saki keeps things interesting for Shane. Me? I'm fine.

Shane has started to fall, so now we have rugs all over the house—mismatched rugs and runners all colors of the rug rainbow. But, outside, we don’t need rugs what with the green grass, which hasn’t been green for so long.

I’m getting forgetful. Or, else, I’m remembering things before they happen. Like this morning when I started to bark fifteen minutes before Joan came home for lunch. Shane and Saki got all excited and ran out to the sunroom all puffed up with love and ready to greet. But, no Joan. I think Kyla was wondering what the fuss was all about. Then I barked again when Joan pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later. Everyone just ignored me. Thought it was a trick. Isn’t there a story about this—a boy and a wolf?

At my age, I can do what I want. And if I want to remember something before it happens, well, just chalk it up to old age.

I think Saki is keeping Shane alive. This morning, we thought he was going to die because he couldn’t get up. Then, this afternoon he and Saki started chasing the bees around the azalea bush. Saki makes him get up and get out in the world—well, out in the yard. Not everyone has the same size world. That’s what I think.

I hope you have a good spring.
Best wishes, Juno