November Rains
The greens have returned. Stump gone. New primitive area under the eucalyptus tree. That's snowflake sauntering across the yard, in search of anoles. It has been a busy fall. Maxim with an injured knee just before soccer season. Marcela with her comps and final classes. Noah with the trial and tribulations of second grade life. And me, well, my troubles are nothing in comparison. The back deck has proven popular and well-used, especially now that the climate has turned to what one might call a mid-spring delight in the north, days that we try to find the time to enjoy.
There is an osprey that visits a snag on our giant eucalyptus. Perching in the late afternoon and letting out the spine wrenching screech, distinctive among raptor calls. The fish eaters are never very hungry in these parts.
Maxim and Noah are learning how raise a puppy. Rex, our new dog, turned six months this week. He is mostly house trained and generally comes when he is called. He has a pecking order, based on who feeds him most frequently. It begins with Marcela, moves through Maxim, then me, and finally Noah -- sometimes he even prefers the cats before Noah, as their food scraps are frequently devoured by him. This is most distressing to Noah, who wants the dog to be his. He wants to be as gifted with animals as his sister. Instead, though, he man-handles the puppy and, honestly, scares him at times. We keep reminding him. "He's an animal. A living thing. Not a stuffed toy." And he is learning.
Maxim, on the other hand, is training Rex to sit and lay down and jump. He is quite good at jumping. And likes to play with her and sleep on her bed, given a choice. But no one ranks close to Marcela, who has been studying at home this year, and spends the most time with what she calls her "new baby." He is happier for it, I'm sure. We all are.
St. Petersburg, Florida is a land of unusual extremes, seasons out of order, people out of place, and an entrenched despair. And yet, through it all, life persists. The love of my life and my children, a growing gaggle of pets as we circle the wagons and keep our power dry, our time is precious and fleeting and rich. We are glad for what we have together, sustaining tenacious joy.
