Pink Can Be Cool Sometimes

Pink, but very cool

I really like the wide variety of trees to be found throughout Bainbridge.  Since my arrival, I’ve been exposed to many new and differing species versus what seemed native to Chicago and the Midwest.

I’ve especially come to enjoy the spring Cherry blossoms.  Perhaps they are my favorite.

I’m no arborist, and I certainly cannot tell you much about these blossoms - other than I think they look really cool this time of year (although ironically I find them to be very ugly during the winter).



Maybe these tress were easily spotted in Chicago and I simply did not take notice.  If so, shame on me.  But now that I’ve acquired a fondness, it seems that these days I’m spotting the pink beauties sprinkled throughout the island when I least expect. 

At the risk of sounding hokey … when passing, I do catch myself slowing just a bit, taking pause to examine the tree.  As I study the structure, I find myself wondering how long this particular tree has been standing.  I want to know how did it take its shape, and whether or not this particular tree will later produce tasty fruit.   

All questions of interest, but I concede, not necessarily of importance or relevance.

Before shattering my brief respite, I try to make mental notes, trusting that I’ll remember where the best trees are positioned.  Gullibly, I tell myself I’ll be back for another visit later this summer, albeit this time to inspect for and pick a mid-afternoon snack.

I’ll see about that.  Maybe I’ll add such task my list.

Anyway, I first took notice to the spring Cherry blossoms while jogging last year.  My Sunday morning running group maintains a regular route through the Grand Forest.  En route, we almost always pass a farm offering the most spectacular stretch of blossoms.  In actuality, it was a parade of blossoms next this farm that first gripped my attention.

Yesterday, I took a moment to snap a few pictures of the farm blossoms, ensuring that I capture the beauty before the pink fades, transitioning to a less magnificent, white foliage.

Next to the farm

I’m not alone in my spring blossom appreciation. Kelly also likes the blooms, but for distinctively different reasons.  She likes the smell.   I concur; the scent is delectable.  


Lucky for us, there are an abundance of Cherry blossoms to be found within close proximity of our house.  


This being the case, Kelly has ample opportunity to emulate Murphy, sniffing her way around the block, while Murphy, uninterested in the blossoms, retains focus on more important canine-related duties.

Looking towards our house

Close-up 

By the way, it’s worth noting that one might deduce that Kelly is experiencing respiratory failure during these walks, however, such conclusion would be incorrect.  This not easily forgotten performance is Kelly simply ‘maximizing’ her opportunity to enjoy the sweet-smelling journey to be had whilst circling the block.
 

I know…but you must appreciate that it’s these peculiar and idiosyncratic mannerisms I love about Kelly.

The Murph

Kelly and I have had Murphy for a long time, the better part of thirteen years to be specific.

I suspect that much like any long-time dog owner, Kelly and I have fully integrated Murphy into our lives, perhaps too much some would say. What started off as a spur-of-the-moment visit to a pet shop has gelled into a long lasting affair with the dog we often times love to hate.

But we love her regardless.

Sure, as a puppy Murphy was adorable; her long and soft ears often proving a formidable obstacle even she was not able to fully navigate. It was then, these quirks made me smile.

Of course Kelly found this simply adorable.

Over time, Murphy provided cause for me to be evicted from my apartment. Apparently my landlord was serious about “no pets”.

Throughout the years Murphy has proved to be a worthy ambassador, opening the doors of introduction for what have become many long-standing friendships for Kelly and me … less that little kid who failed to keep his ice cream cone at safe distance.

It would appear that Murphy does take pleasure in ice-cream atop a sugar cone. Who knew? Lucky for Kelly and me, the kid’s parents found the entire episode endearing.

I cannot help but wonder if that kid has made his peace with dogs yet.

Recently, our vet suggested that Murphy transition to a diet for elderly canines.  Apparently her kidneys lack the full digestive power of her youth.  Yikes, where did all the years go? Daddy’s little puppy suddenly is grown.

The vet simply states the obvious; these days Murphy’s old age cannot be disputed. She reminds me of my grandpa in his late years. She to seems to be slowing, the spring in her step less sprightly than in years past, her hearing loss is obvious, and she’s become increasing ornery.

An old curmudgeon is what she’s really become.

But we love her regardless.

I like to think that our recent relocation to a more rural setting has been good for Murphy in her golden years.

She really appears to enjoy our big yard and is always keen to locate potential bread scraps the birds might have overlooked. She likes to walk the Grand Forest trails where infinite aromas are abundant - a lottery of sorts satisfying her incessant sense of smell and endless searches to discover something akin to her version of lotto.

Also, did I mention that Murphy is trending towards increasing levels of stubbornness? Sometimes I want to leave her in the forest.

Alas, we love her regardless. Unconditionally.