Notes from Maine - 2021/12/19
We had our first decent snow overnight. It looks like about three inches out there, but it’s still coming down. Previous snowfall was only an inch or so—nothing really noteworthy. With this snowfall, Albert (puppy) is having his best day. He could barely contain himself, running around and burying his nose in it until he sneezed.
Each morning, if it’s not too muddy, he has Frisbee time before breakfast. Today, Albert was overjoyed. He chased the Frisbee at full speed, smashing it with his front feet as it hit the ground and then skidding himself and the Frisbee into a big drift. That’s when the hunt began. Under all that snow, he couldn’t find it. When Albert is hunting, his tail whips in a corkscrew as he circles and searches. His radius grows larger with each passing second. I kept telling him to look where he slid to a stop, but he wouldn’t listen. I pointed, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. I have to guess that his nose doesn’t work as well in the snow. He usually relies on a combination of sight and scent. Today, he just couldn’t find it.
The first time he lost the trail, I walked all the way out there and flipped over the Frisbee for him. The Frisbee usually lands between 75 and 100 yards from the deck. The second time, I let him search on his own while Finn (adult dog) and I enjoyed some quiet snow time. Later I’ll go find it.
Right now, Earl (sneaky father of the new filly) is outside. He’s alternating between eating hay, running to the front of the fence to see what’s going on across the way, and then running back to the barn when Maybelle yells to him from her stall. She senses when he has wandered off and tells him to stay close, even though she’s inside and he’s out.
As soon as the snow pauses, I’ll put Maybelle and her daughter out.
It’s a busy morning! It feels like everyone here has different goals for the day and they all conflict.
For my part, I’m having a perfectly normal day. I have a writing project that I keep sneaking over to, even though it’s something just for me. Sometimes I have a story going that I’m telling to myself. When I’m done, I just tuck it away and forget about it. It’s a “Once Upon a Time…” that nobody else would understand or enjoy. I suppose it’s my way of uncovering thoughts that would have no other outlet. It’s also a way to prove to myself that I’m a real person. Maybe that’s not relatable to others—I’m not sure. Do you ever have one of those moments when you see yourself from the outside and wonder how it’s possible that the image you present to the world is supposed to represent who you really are?
Sometimes I question if I have original thoughts and motivations or if I’m just a reflection of everything that has passed before my eyes. Everything is a performance. Nothing is genuine or earnest. Even the words I’m typing now are just a mask that I’m carefully constructing to hide behind. I’m so deep—can’t you tell?
When I tell stories to myself, with no intention of ever showing them to anyone else, I can prove that the simulation has a beating heart at the center of itself. There’s no judgement except my own, and I judge it to be good.
I wonder if Albert feels this way when he’s searching for a Frisbee. Does he lose himself in the task, oblivious to what the rest of us think, or is he a servant to the part of him that wants to be a “good boy” and bring the Frisbee back? Based on the fact that he’ll search for minutes and minutes without responding when I call, I think he’s doing it for himself.
Regardless, I think it’s time to go find the Frisbee that he left out in the snow. If I take an apple with me, I bet I can get Earl to help us look.
