Dog in the Snow

It has snowed again! I was hoping it would and now fields, mountains and trees are sculpted and etched in shades of white and shadows of blue. Evergreen limbs bow under clumps of snow and leafless branches are studies in crystalline lattice. Everything is silvery white, blue-tint and pewter grey. And with the snow, a soft stillness has fallen on the land.

I call Fips to the door. "Look, Fipsie, it's snow!" I am more excited than he is, as I grab my coat and camera and the pups trot on out after me.

More than last year, the snow lies thick on the ground, which I imagine makes it hard for dachshunds. Not only is it cold on their spongies, but snow this high is also cold on their underbellies.

Still the doggies are brave. With deliberate strides they walk toward the fence, and peer out at something. They then follow me down the road toward the bridge.

Perro en la Nieve

Past the bridge, Rosco stays on the road while Fips heads out onto the adjacent field. He follows some scent along the snow covered bushes on the banks of the creek and then turns and runs across the field, a little bundle of fuzzy dogergy hopping into the vast expanse of lifeless white.

I wonder what interests him and marvel at his intrepid versatility.

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