Stream of consciousness

The stream of consciousness approach seems appropriate to this morning's posting. After all, there's a lot of water floating around not really knowing where it ought to go. In some cases, it can seep into the ground; in others, it's headed for people's basements.

My niece wrote last night from the West Coast. She's a mental health counselor, and she thinks she may need a counselor for herself. Her office was flooded. Then, she came home to find her fireplaces flooding into the basement, the same place where the hot water heater let loose around Christmas time. I'm sure her consciousness is thinking those streams of water ought to pick someplace else to reside.

My sister told me there's a lake forming inside their indoor arena. It's coming in from all the melting snow which originally came off the roof. So far, it's not a bad problem, and it will eventually go away.

Some water, as I said, has a hard time figuring out where to go when thick sheets of ice prevent it from going downward so it deposits itself in ice depressions. I encountered that this morning while walking---- or should I say "shuffling" to the barn. In the darkness, it was hard to find a spot where firm footing could be guaranteed, except maybe the snow bank, which is still several feet deep and soft.

We have lost a lot of snow overnight, thanks to the rain and warmer temperature. Yesterday the top board on the fence west of the house was just partially visible. This morning I can see the top half of the second board. Six inches between six-inch boards would be around 9 or 10 inches of snow loss, I'm guessing. That's some significant progress.

Yesterday's snow was still good for snow shoeing. The dogs and I took off for the woods and mostly followed some pathways formed by Bill and Annie. I wanted to feel a little pioneer spirit, though, so about halfway through the woods, I started a new trail across an opening and along the south fence toward the bridge Bill constructed a couple of years ago. There, I returned to the already-formed network.

The slight detour got my blood pumping, and it felt good to get out in the woods. I don't think snow shoeing will be so much fun today.

My consciousness stream now flows to Selle Road, where yesterday I finally took the Christmas loaf of bread to the Taylors and deposited it in their mailbox.

As I walked back to the car, some friends stopped along the road for a quick visit. They were headed east. I stood on the north side of the road. In the midst of our conversation, a white pickup came barreling down the road, passed between us and left me wet from head to toe. My friend wiped off his glasses, and we calmly agreed that that wasn't very neighborly.

I was proud of myself. Not one word of ugly language came dribbling out of my mouth. I thought abut the moment occasionally through the afternoon and figured I probably had it coming for some injustice I'd committed some other time. So, thank you, white pickup person, I have taken my penance and dealt with it well.

Besides, the whole scene of that roadside slush attack goes along nicely with my stream of consciousness approach this morning, and I'm always looking for writing material.

The horses are staying in the barn until this morning's rains die down a bit. That's good for the dogs too, cuz they can keep watch on the horses without getting all wet. I gave them a break yesterday and took them to town with me.

Border Collies don't ever consider taking breaks from their work, so I took charge. We went to the bank, and I told the ladies I had Border Collies out in the car. Two biscuits went out the door with me, and the dogs seemed appreciative. That treat sustained them for the afternoon shift at the barnyard fence.

I can now hear the morning blasts up at Schweitzer. It's become a daily thing as the staff makes sure the ski area is safe from avalanches.

My nonsensical stream is about to run out---at least, inside. There's plenty to deal with outside, but I must not forget to mention the joy we all felt last night when our ZAGS won in a thriller. As the halftime commentator said in every other word of his commentating, they recovered their "swagger." It took them a while, and it looked as if the lost zone they've been in for the past several games was going to continue.

They came alive, though. The swagger returned, and it was obvious the team once again believed in themselves and put forth the effort to win in overtime. The win was great for the ZAGS and beyond wonderful for all their fans who depend on the team's talents and exciting play to carry us through the winter.

Guess I'll go slip sliding away now, and wish you all a good and dry day.