Winter Paws

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Saturday Morning Lilacs Smell Like Home



Today is my first day off in 11 days. I slept in until 0730 and was in bed by 1030. That means I got 9 hours of sleep. That's equivalent to two nights of sleep during the week. I feel fantastic today. I went out this morning and walked to the dog park with Sadie and Willow. While mosying our way there I took some photos of dew on the beautifully blooming springtime blossoms. This is what I dream my everyday life to embody. (Although I would do a little workout prior to the morning dog walk and go to yoga class).

I still have sweet Adam holed up in the house with a bum knee, but he took baby steps this morning with great pride. His knee is healing well after his ACL reconstructive surgery on 14 April. He's a tough guy and his sense of humor has not waivered in the least even after having to sit on the couch for the last 10 days. He's a trooper. We are going to spend some time out of the house this evening as we will be joining some friends for dinner and then off to a soccer game.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Uncommon Commute



The commute home tonight was beautifully misty and Ireland-like. The buds on the trees were so green and the blossoms alive with vibrant spring colors. Just before crossing 14th Street Bridge to finish the last stretch home I am fortunate enough to pass by the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument and the Jefferson Memorial. Last night I laid in the wet grass in my BDU's (Battle Dress Uniform (camoflauge duds) for those of you not in the Army) across the street from the mall in the tulip library and took some amazing photos of the Washington Monument disappearing into the evening mist. No one could ask for more beautiful scenery to see every evening on what most would call a torturous commute.


Misty Monument

Friday, April 15, 2005

It's Raining Spinach


Botanical Garden Washington, DC

Providing enrichment for the monkeys at work (I'm not refering to the soldiers) can take a little imagination. Whether it's steamed white rice with honey and raisins or blue mashed potatoes with flecks of fruit cocktail, you become somewhat of a cartoon gourmet chef in the non-human primate diet kitchen. There comes a time when you have a creative block or you run out of sticky supplies, but you can always revert back to an old standby most of the monkeys really like, spinach. The key to making spinach fun is not to place it on the foraging board where all other biscuits, fruit and enrichment are laid out, but to spread it above the cage so they can climb to the top and pick at it through the bars.

Unfortunately for me and maybe for the monkeys, I am not tall enough to spread the spinach atop the uppermost cage in the quad. Therefore, I have to throw handfuls of fresh spinach from the middle of the aisle of cages and hope that most of it lands at the pinnacle of criss crossed metal rods above each monkey. The joy of this action is the animation of the monkeys. Many of them watch as the spinach drops on the top of the cage and wait for the smallest of leaves to fall through the bars and attempt to catch it in their mouths or swat the air as it slips through their fingertips. Others crouch low to the stainless steel floor with hands clasped overhead and look at you with bewilderment as if screaming a warning to all other monkeys in the room, "Incoming!", at the inital impact of spinach on metal. After contact they are elated to find no harm done and glad to pick at the emerald foliage resting beautifully atop the cage.

The flourescent light beams through it like the sunlit canopy of the rainforest. The chlorophyl vegetation is accentuated by the light and the veins and stems of the seemingly plain plant stand out to make it a stunning sight. Then I realize either these monkeys have never seen sunlight and trees or they have and they are imprisoned in my place of work and will probably continue to dream of days of sunlit leaves, swinging from branch to branch and freedom. It makes "raining spinach" less joyful and a much less enlightening tale (tail).