painting a picture

As I take my dog, Bisou, out for the last time of the evening, I stop for a moment to remember this night. As I stand outside, alone in the country, in what seems to be an utter familiarity, my mind recognizes a season change taking place. The crisp, bite of the winter breeze moves briskly across my face, the nights become longer and cooler. The sensation in my bones tells of a storm moving in. My surroundings being so quiet, as if someone pushed Mother Nature’s pause button, I can hear Bisou in the woods. The dead leaves crackling under her paws, her panting and trying to figure out why she is expelling a steam of water vapors. As she starts running back towards me, the tags on her collar clank together, I know she is ready to go back inside, by how fast they are clanking.

As we go back inside, the warmth of the fire attacks the chill that goes all of the way down to my bones. I grab a cup of hot chocolate and sit down in front of the fire. The heat from the hot chocolate warms me up in places the fire cannot even touch. The sweetness of the chocolate is still on my lips, as I finish the sandwich I started to eat before Bisou’s break. The sweetness of the chocolate and the tartness from the mustard almost assault my mouth with confusion. The aroma of the fire fills the room making Bisou feel safe enough to nestle down on the floor in front of the fire place. Tonight, I remember why I moved out here; the stillness, peace and quite, serenity and calming of the mountains. I feel safe for the first time in a long time.