Discovering The Truro Bear
How we greet the day; a favorite plant-based ice cream recipe
Greetings on this brilliant Tuesday morning. The earlier the sun climbs above the horizon, the sooner and more hopefully we climb out of bed.
There are moments when Samwise shows the creep of old age, but not on these mornings. As soon as I stir, he sits up on the bed with a hunger to greet the day by going outside among the birdsong and squirrels. Emily, always game when anyone else is excited and raring to go, jumps down and waits by the door as I get dressed. If I take too long, she picks up the squeaky whale we bought at Paws & Whiskers and begins her joyous but discordant song.
The door opens, Samwise runs down the stairs and along the canyon-walled snow path toward the main house. Emily, excited by his burst, follows with aimless gaiety. It’s only when she gets halfway to where Sam has stopped at the dead end of deep snow that she stops and looks back at me.
That’s when the crows catch her attention. She begins to look around at the slightest movement as tiny birds flit and flutter on the outer branches of the naked trees, while squirrels play on the high wire of the highest trees. Emily gazes upward, inhales the air with a thorough satisfaction of one who is alive, as Mary Oliver penned,
“…it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.”
Samwise returns the way he came until he finds solid footing in the bordering snow. He climbs the foot out of the sheer path. Then begins traversing the frozen snow, gauging his footing as he goes, until he reaches the northern boundary of the yard, where the slope angles uphill toward the road. The southern sun has melted the snow there, where tree trunks are sprinkled. This is where Sam’s magnificent pink nose goes to work registering the traces of nocturnal visitors who passed this way. Fox, deer, rabbit, coyote. Then he traces back to the edges of the crusty snow where he surveys the dancehall steps of the crows.
