Sunday’s at the Rescue: Bama

So fellow travelers, Janet Rath, the amazing vet tech at the rescue where I volunteer posted this great shot of Bama, a stunning long legged beauty whom so many of us love to walk and play with.

Bama

 

Bama is a wonderful dog  with two strikes against her.

She’s black

and she’s big.

Imagine the backlash I would create if I said a child was less adoptable because she was black? or big?

In his talk at a fund raiser for the Nor’Wester Readers Canine Assisted Learning Program this past Sunday, author Jon Katz raised some important issues about dog rescue. I’ve been pondering the thoughts his points raised for me for a few days. Something about this shot of beautiful Bama pulled things together.

In a nutshell Bama is a classic example of why I keep giving my time and energy to dog rescue.

She is homeless through no fault of her own.  It is a common myth that dogs end up in shelters because they have behavioral issues. As any professional dog trainer knows a dog’s behavioral issues generally reflect either poor or a lack of training. As Jon was told by a trainer he worked with: “If you want a better dog you have to be a better human.”  It is also a fact that behavioral issues are way down on the list of reasons dogs end up in shelters.

She’s smart and has responded well to training. Even the best behaved dog will need extra support when they come into the shelter system because kennel life is stressful. This is especially true for dogs who find themselves in a shelter after living in a home because they have been “surrendered.”

She’s affectionate.  It’s another common myth that shelter dogs are a bigger bite risk than dogs acquired from breeders.  Yes, knowledgeable, responsible professional breeders can and do breed for temperament, whether that is the kid friendly affability of a lab or the razor sharp focus of a working border collie.  Still, even well bred dogs can, will and do bite if scared, attacked or seriously hurt. Being an independent non-profit operation, our rescue has the advantage of being able to choose which dogs are brought into our kennels.  This is why Helping Hounds is considered a rescue not a shelter.

She is appreciative of every minute of time and attention she is given.  Unlike many of the humans I deal with on a daily basis,  (individuals whom I am being paid good taxpayer dollars to assist) the dogs at the rescue are always happy to see me.  Even the ones who come in so scared they need to be enticed out of their crates at first are soon wagging their tails and willing to walk or at least snuggle on the couch within a few days.  These dogs take in everything I have to offer, every single time I show up.

She is safe now. If Helping Hounds had not opted to take Bama granting her a slot on the North bound transport last month, she would no longer be walking this earth with those long graceful legs.  Her boundless spirit and energy would have been extinguished simply because her “time was up.”  That “time” can be a brief as a week or as long as a month and when that time comes, the dog is killed regardless of temperament, health or age.

Which is why adopting a shelter dog is often referred to as “rescue,”  to address one observation Jon made in his talk. It is I think worth noting the families who send in updates almost always refer to their dogs as “adopted,”  after all the contract says “adoption.”  The current trend of using the term rescue/rescue dog draws attention to the larger social issue of the high kill rate at too many shelters. It’s an issue the word “adoption” demurely sidestepped for decades because no one wanted to admit the high number of animals being killed at shelters.  (The entire “no-kill” concept is a topic requiring it’s own post)

Let me be clear. I am not one of those who believe everyone who wants a dog has a morale obligation to adopt a rescue dog. That’s a point where some of my rescue friends and I part ways and I am fine with that point of departure. I agree with Jon’s thoughtful process of considering all the aspects of how an animal fits into one’s life. There is a valid calling for knowledgeable, responsible professional breeders, none of whom would ever sell their dogs to petstores or to people sight unseen over the internet or through craigslist.

If the rescue community is going to achieve their goals of making a difference in the long term, we do need to address the larger social issues such as spay/neuter, breeder licensing, breed discrimination and the criminal element of systemic abuse. Most rescues, like the operation I am part of have their hands full just trying to find good homes for the many sweet souls who come through their doors.

Souls like sweet sweet Bama.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Editorial Note:  Sunday’s at the Rescue is a series of posts about my experiences working with rescue dogs.  It is named for  Sunday, a sweet young dog who came through the rescue where I volunteer, stole a piece of my heart (as so many of them do) and got herself adopted into a great home.

As for Miss Bama, we are happy to update our post with the news she was adopted April 3rd  by a wonderful family who are looking forward to running and playing with her for years to come.

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Garden Angel

So fellow travelers, in search of a subject for an assignment in a photography class I came upon this tiny spirit in my parent’s garden.  Although the photo did not quite yield the image I needed for the assignment,  the feeling it created stayed with me long enough to form a haiku:

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Small but holding fast

Garden Angel keeping faith

Helping spring return.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

The 4.0 Challenge: Take Two

So fellow travelers,  when last we checked in on the 4.0 challenge, we were standing at a 3.8 mile point listening to a flock of redwing blackbirds herald the impending return of spring.

Knowing the other direction off this first route would bring me to a busy commercial district during peak after work “busy-ness” hours I opted to back track home.  I reset my odometer as I passed my driveway and headed the other way down the road. At the first intersection I had to choose whether to turn left or right.  Right would take me on a long road lined with farms and fields. Easy fodder for photographic opportunities, maybe even too easy. I turned left.

Left placed me on a route which passed an elementary school. several zombie like semi-melted snowpersons and many houses, one of them the residence of my son-in-laws parents. Note to self : my “fellow-in-laws” live exactly 3.2 miles from us and it has been too long since we got together for good food and drinks; call them asap.  A few minutes later I was pleased to see a small triangle park which hosts free music events and an art fair every summer come into view just as the numbers rolled over to 3.9

Slowing down to be sure to note the exact location of the 4.0 point I realized most of the park was still buried under heavy snow cover, however the sidewalks around the park were clear.  Unfortunately, because the park is in the center of a small village, across from several popular eateries, not a single parking spot was open along the park or for several blocks in the immediate area.  I would have to come back at a better time.

That time would prove to be very early in the morning a few days later.  I was heading out of town on a road trip to Bucks County PA to hear author Jon Katz speak at a fund raiser event for Nor’Western Readers Canine Assisted Learning Program.  Several CGBF friends would be attending and the trip gave me an opportunity to visit my parents who live nearby.  Traveling solo afforded me the opportunity to stop at will for any photo ops which might catch my eye.  So I pulled into a parking spot alongside the park right at the 4.0 mile mark.

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I am still garnering experience in working with my digital camera settings but I sense I am getting better at figuring out which shutter speeds and f/stops to use in given conditions.  I practice by shooting the same shot using different settings.

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Glenn’s challenge directs us to look around at the 4.0 mark and see whats there in unique ways.

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Hmmm….. ok…. a lighthouse in the center of town is somewhat unique.

And I liked the lines these park benches made against the snow

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I know there’s a bit of Haiku hiding in this image.

Oh and look here in the snow, something for the group thread on what melting snow reveals

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Never mind why  someone chucked an empty oil container and of course I just picked it up and put it in my car to dispose of properly later.   Hello, what’s that sound?

No it’s not  redwing blackbirds, this time it is the thrum thrum of a blackhawk

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Yes I know it’s probably not really a blackhawk, but I was thrilled to find the right shutter speed to capture a freeze frame of it’s roters before it whirred out of range.

As I watched it zip away that’s when I saw it.

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A clock? Wait,since when did this park have an old style clock?

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Oh ok, it is a relatively new addition and  I give myself some leeway since the clock sits at the apex of the triangle shaped park ( go back and look closely at the wide shot of the park) where busy traffic zooms by on either side and I am always focused on being in the correct lane for getting through the intersection.

Deep snowbanks on one side and the busy intersection on the other meant I would have to shoot from a side angle or looking straight up. It took several tries which resulted in two shots I consider post worthy.  One I edited in black and white so the tree arms “holding” the clock face stand out more….

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and then this image  which I got by happy accident, hitting the button while adjusting focus

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There’s a poem in there somewhere.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready. 

 

 

 

The 4.0 Challenge: Take One

So fellow travelers, a fellow member of the Bedlam Farm creative group recently posted a challenge for us.  Glenn Curtis is an AMAZING photographer, excellent writer and fabulous chef…oh yeah and he has a wonderful dog named Elka.  Glenn tantalizes us with his gourmet cooking, draws us in with his descriptive writing and inspires awe with his superlative photography.  Don’t take my word for it, check out his blog, seeing, reading and eating (he shares recipes) is believing.

Glenn’s challenge is called 4.0.  The idea is to set your odometer to zero and then drive exactly 4.0 miles ( not 3.9,not 4.1,  FOUR POINT ZERO) stop and look, really look at what is there to inspire a photograph, poem or bit of bloggery.

As he does with his blog, Glenn’s intention is to get us to experience something new.  As people began to post their photos and accompanying stories there were some common themes.  Many set out with a specific destination in mind, only to find that location was either just over or under the requiste 4.0 mile marker.  Yet, true to our group’s spirit, participants persisted until they found something post worthy, whether that meant making the best of the location they ended at or heading out on a different route.

Since we have a three driver/two car household with a happily employed soon to be college student, I have to take my driving options when I can get them which meant I had to wait a few days after the challenge posted to hit the road. As posts cropped up I took note of how people made the most of their experiences. Knowing I might only have one or two chances this week to try my luck I thought a great deal about which routes to take on my first run.

As luck would have it, my first run came on a sunny, warm day….well ok normally 45° F isn’t warm but after the January-February five week run of temps below freezing it felt like heaven…besides the SUN was SHINING, a seasonally rare occurrence in Syracuse.  I grabbed my camera, zeroed my odometer and headed up our road to the scenic bridge and river outlooks I anticipated would be at 4.0.

Yup, just like my fellow challenge takers discovered, the result was “close but missing the mark.”  The bridge was too soon and the scenic lookout was too far.  What turned up at 4.0 was a sharp bend with no shoulder on either side. No, I would not be stopping here.

I backtracked to mile 3.2 where a turn onto a side road would take me to the head of a walking trail.  Only the road ended at 3.8 miles and the massive snowbank plowed up against the gate at the trailhead made it impossible to walk the final two tenths of a mile. Drats. Foiled again.

But wait….what was that I was hearing just up the trail?  Could it be?

YES!  the unmistakable “zingy” twitter of RED WING BLACKBIRDS.  I could just make out their dark forms restlessly flitting around two large trees up the road.  Too far for even my telephoto lens to get any kind of shot, but my heart sang with joy because the return of the redwings is a definitive sign of spring.  And as my heart sang, the song turned into this haiku:

Zhreee chuck chuck zhree zhing!

Spring has landed in the trees

Redwings have returned

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(Listen…can you hear them?  Right through those trees ……)

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Enough is enough

So fellow travelers,  this morning I came across a phenomenal photo and poem posted by Jon Katz on his Bedlam Farm Blog.  Jon is the founder, mentor and “grand poohbah” of the Creative Group at Bedlam Farm, which I reference here frequently.  If you want to know more about us, look it up on Facebook. Our posts are open for public viewing but not commentary; that’s how the admins keeps the negativity out, the positive inspiration flowing and the ministry of encouragement thriving.

He posted the photo on the CGBF page first and it has generated an inspiring chain of responses from my fellow members reflecting the rich diversity within our group.  Soon after, I came across his blog entry with the added poem.  The one-two impact of the combined photo and poem kick started something deep within me.

It’s no secret this has been one hell of a winter. It started out deceptively benign.  Back in January Syracuse actually set a record for the longest consecutive days without measurable snowfall. For a city that routinely wins the Golden Snowball (a friendly competition between cities in Upstate New York for the highest seasonal snowfall total) that is an unusual statistic.  To be honest, given Buffalo’s unprecedented “Lake Effect” event back in November, which dumped between five to seven feet of snow over several days in a small area just east of the city limits we were more than happy to concede this year’s award before the season had even begun.  No one in CNY was eager to catch up to that kind of snowfall total, even spread out over the an entire season.

Somehow Old Man Winter didn’t get that memo, because sometime during the last week in January it started snowing …. daily …. everyday ….. for twenty three straight days along with record cold. (I put in the link to verify the data)  For the first time in twenty-eight years the dog(s) and I were snowed in.

I live on a busy road, hazardous to walk on at anytime but rendered too dangerous in winter when the shoulder disappears under snowplow created snowbanks several feet high. So, to get to the area where I walk, I cut through my kind and tolerant neighbor’s backyard.  Every year there is a point where I have to clear several paths from our deck to the dogs’ yard, the bird feeders and across my yard to the street beyond. I wrote about this last year when we were snowed in for a few days during the 2014 Winter Olympics.

This year it was all I could do to keep clearing the paths to the dogyard, bird feeders and my pond ( I have to keep the aerator clear of snow)

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At times I shoveled two or three times a day, each round taking well over half an hour.  The path through the backyard was lost within a week and remains completely buried. Unfortunately  so are all the walking paths in the local parks within reasonable driving distance, not that either our or the foster dogs were anxious to stay out long during February’s record setting subzero cold snap.

This past week we did finally break into double digits ABOVE zero with one or two days just at or slightly above the magic 32° F mark.  The snowpack however is both deep and dense even as Lake Ontario so generously continues to add here and there to the totals.  Just ten minutes of attempting to expand the trails out back ended in a half hour stretched out on a yoga mat with an ice pack tucked under my back.

Jon’s poem about sadness and the accompanying photo of the abandoned house in the snow set loose a roaring reaction. I realized just how depressed and trapped I had been feeling. “Enough is enough,” I said to a startled Delilah seated on the couch next to me. I snapped my laptop shut, threw on snowpants, laced up my heavy duty snowhikers and headed with fierce determination to the back yard.

Recent deer tracks among the many critter trails leading too and from the large bird feeder near my pond gave me an idea for finding a way out of the backyard.

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Using the broad footprint of my snowhikers and the shovel for support, I started plowing my way across the back yard from the pre-shoveled bird feeder path, along the deer trail towards my neighbor’s fence line.

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I knew I would have to shovel at some point but at first it was less strenuous to simply stomp through the snow.  I took frequent breaks, sipping water to stay hydrated.  It didn’t take long for me to shed my down vest.  About midway through the yard I hit snow up to my knees.  At that point I began shoveling the top few feet and then stomping down the remaining snow.

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Looking at the depth of the deer tracks it hit me just how long those nimble legs really are.

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I made slow but steady progress until I hit the corner where our neighbor’s yard meets ours.  One step forward and I was in snow up to my hips! Using the shovel for leverage I struggled out of the snow pit onto the path I had created behind me. Looking at the snow drifted up against his fence I knew this section was likely to be deep for quite a ways, if not all the way to his driveway.  I stuck the shovel in handle a few feet beyond where I had sunk into the snow to check the depth.

DAMMIT.

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Soooo close, yet so far.

Fine.

Since Daylight Savings Time kicked in last night I guess it will now stay light long enough after work for me to drive to a park where the running trails are cleared and get in a decent walk before dark.

DAMMIT  Winter you win.

But I swear only just this year.  I’m investing in snowshoes for next winter.

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My trusty winter hiking boots with a set of EMS stabl-icers  courtesy of my fantastic CGBF sister Kate Rantilla.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

 

 

 

 

 

March

So fellow travelers after five weeks of relentless bone chilling cold,  sub zero wind chills and daily snowfall we have finally hit our first few days of temps above freezing.  Lest we get comfortable enough to don shorts and flip flops, Old Man Winter  has been careful to throw in a few nights of single digits, both above and below zero. No worries. Around here our snow shovels park by  the front and back porch doors well into April.  The zig zag weather did encourage this little haiku.

 

Bird songs. Sounds like spring

Snow drifts high as budding trees

March Lion or Lamb?

 

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Spring is under there…… somewhere.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

 

Eighteen

So fellow travelers, eighteen years ago today an amazing spirit came into my life. She challenges me every day to think outside the box, makes me forever proud for the ways she pushed herself to grow and embrace this adventure we call life.  These words celebrate the gift of being her Mom.  I look forward to the years of celebration to come

 

EIGHTEEN

Born fist first

Ready to grab hold of everything life has to offer

Climbing before she walked

Plucking at my heart strings

Making her own music

Marching always to her own rhythm

Determined

Thoughts turning inward

Eyes focused sky high

Ready to fly

I love so I let go

 

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Happy Birthday Emma Mariko Rahalski. May the year ahead bring you closer to your dreams.

Sunday’s at the Rescue: an Angel gets her wings.

So fellow travelers, yesterday was one of those days when the stars aligned to make an impossible schedule suddenly possible. A slight change in the crew schedule for this week’s Drumline competition allowed me to head out to the rescue first thing in the morning to honor the memory of a rescue angel who gained her wings this week.

I met Laura Paradine in November 2010, when my daughter and I attended a volunteer orientation.  Her love for the dogs at the rescue radiated from every inch of her welcoming smile.  In the most difficult periods of chaos that came with the various stages of the rescue’s growth she was often the one person who could give me the words of encouragement I needed to keep going.

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From my years of rescue experience I have learned when faced with the worst cases of suffering, asking “Why?” is often a futile waste of valuable energy.  I have learned instead to ask “How?” and look for the ways I can make a difference. If I  cannot help directly with one situation, I find similar ways to help.  “We do what we can and when we can we do more,” Laura used to say to me.  I wrote those words on the inside of my training binder; they kept me going as we struggled to find ways to organize some kind of volunteer program.

When Laura was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) we were stunned, especially when the condition progressed with merciless speed.  She faced her fate with the same passionate faith and courage we saw so often at the rescue. Her friends rallied, making it possible for her to visit in her wheelchair and later when that was not an option, by bringing dogs to visit her at home. The staff began to notice that dogs who visited with her soon found their homes, even ones who had been waiting a bit longer than usual to be adopted. It happened every time so when she told her friends she felt she was surrounded by Angels, the staff at the rescue began to speak of “Laura’s  Adoption Angel miracles.”

I know I was not alone in spending some evenings in tearful prayer battling the anger that rises when life seems so heartless and unjust. Laura continued to face the inevitable with dignity and courage. When she died earlier this week, the rescue’s Facebook page featured a tribute to her written by our amazing director.  It opens with these moving words:

              “The best kind of people are those that believe in something so passionately they make you believe too. They make you see sunshine where only clouds had been and you become a better person for having known them.  They are the hardest to say good bye to, even when their passing means they are at peace and free from suffering.”

Yesterday the rescue received one of the largest transports to date.  Close to sixty dogs from wiggly little puppies to big shaggy adults were welcomed by eager volunteers as the rest of the morning crew walked the dogs already in house. After quick relief walks, the new dogs ate breakfast, received id collars and after a longer walk, snuggled into crates and pens with fresh bedding and a toy. When the morning shift wrapped up there were a total of eighty-three dogs in house waiting for their new families to come through the doors that would open at noon.

Our Angel Laura is gonna be busy.

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My walking buddy Bruce, watching the transport arrivals.

 

Walk gently upon the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

 

 

 

Reaching

So fellow travelers,  sitting at in the library of the high school where I work, I sensed a change in the ambient light.

 After hours of grey lake effect squalls driven by a subzero wind chill brutal enough to delay school for two hours yesterday morning, the sun had managed to push a few rays through a gap in the storm front.  I glanced towards the big windows and saw light filtering through the leaves of one of the plants. I took my chances on grabbing a shot with my not-an-IPhone-camera and as I worked on editing the image, words emerged and formed a bit of poetry.

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Leaves reaching for Light

yearning for sunshine and warmth

Unrequited faith

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready

The Face of Old Man Winter

So fellow travelers, I am profoundly grateful school was closed last week for winter break. It gave me a respite from the doldrums of work and plenty of free time for creative exploration. I have been sketching, painting, editing photos and writing blog posts to my hearts content.  It’s granted me an eyes on the prize glimpse of what’s in store when I reach the finish line of this phase of my professional life.   I’ll return to work on Monday, refueled and committed to regularly topping off my tank with inspiration.  I know I can count on finding it daily at the CGBF Facebook page.

I also know in this winter of record breaking cold I will have to push myself to head out for more than shoveling paths to the dogs’ yard, pond  and birdfeeders.  Yes, I shovel paths to my bird feeders. I am very committed to keeping them filled throughout these months of  deep snow cover.

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Besides, I have a resident nuthatch who scolds me if those feeders are empty when I come out with the dogs in the morning.

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Here in Upstate NY we are no strangers to winters with seasonal accumulation of snow measured in feet and periods of freezing temperatures with subzero wind chills. (There’s a reason the roses in my garden are a variety called “Polar Crossing.”) Still it looks like February 2015 will be one for the record books, clocking in as the coldest month on record in Syracuse since 1901. While our snowfall total is just about average for this time of year, what is significant is about two thirds of that total fell within the last few weeks. Hence the reason it has been necessary to clear the aforementioned paths on a daily, sometimes hourly basis.

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Add in the fact that we have not seen a high temperature above freezing since late January and will not until sometime in March I know better than to count down the days until “spring” because this year’s equinox will likely still be sitting under a couple feet of Lake Effect.  Since Lake Ontario has decided not to wait for me to visit her beautiful shores and instead deposited herself generously in my yard,  I decided to use this as an opportunity to work on some photography skills.

Winter is a difficult time to capture good photos, not just because of the immobility of multiple layers of outwear. When it is cloudy the light is “flat” and images lack contrast needed to create depth.

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When it is sunny, images can end up blown out, as details are lost in the brilliance of reflected sun on snow.

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I am working towards gaining an instinctive knowledge of my camera’s settings, so I can shoot in full out manual mode.  Often I start with a semi-manual setting just to give myself a point of reference. Depending on the type of photo I am trying to capture, I pick either an F/stop or shutter speed  to work from .  I try several shots varying the other setting and see what works.

IMG_2331    underexposed (1/2000  f22)

   IMG_2333    over exposed ( 1/2000 f11)

IMG_2332   just about right (1/2000 f16)

I know am getting better because the day I caught Old Man Winter lurking by my pond I was actually able to grab this shot of his windswept face.

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After which I told him it was time to be a gentleman and step aside for Lady Spring.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.