The day started out like any other. The sun rose in the East. It’s rays leaked under the bedroom window blinds. Little eyes opened. First one pair, then another. In another room there would be two more and two more again further down the hall….
It’s hard being new.
The environment is not yet familiar. The sounds are not what I’m used to. I don’t know where anything is!
There is a yellow dog staring at me in the distance.
People are directing me, talking. There’s so much to take in on that first day of noise.
Am I going to like it? I’m worried.
As the sun sets behind her, she is thinking. Thinking of all the little wonders around her – the dog, the sister, the people she loves in her life. She spots a bird, an ant, a footprint in the dirt.
She asks questions. She is four. She asks LOTS of questions.
Today the sky is blue. The clouds are thick. White. The Buffel looks like discarded straw. Moisture is minimal.
The fence stands strong. Four barbs with wooden posts in the black soil. It stands strong, against the odds.
If that fence could talk, what would it say?
The cattle are thirsty.
The wheat can’t put down more roots.
If the skies don’t open, life on the land goes on, as best it can.
If the skies do open, life goes on. But there’s more of it.
The life of a dog is not complete without space to roam and follow all the smells to their source. Without mud to romp in, grass to roll in and water to splash in, how can a dog truly be content?