Lately we've been taking Samantha for walks so she can relieve herself in peace. Putting her in the backyard won't work, as she gets mobbed by puppies that haven't gotten it in their heads yet that she is no longer producing milk. This has made Samantha very happy, as she loves to go on walks. I took her for a walk this morning when I went out to warm up the truck. As soon as I opened the door, she jumped in to the truck and wouldn't come back out. She wanted to go to work with me. I wish I could have taken her. It took a lot of convincing and coaxing to finally get her back out of the truck and off to our walk.
The snow was falling rather thickly through the orange lamplight.
The road was illuminated in a shimmery gold.
Gilded feathers glided down from the sky.
The ground was blanketed in powder an inch thick in the gloom,
and skeletal trees were outlined in winter's clothes.
The ridgeline rose darkly in the distance.
A lone speck of light peeked through the trunks of ancient trees,
trying vainly to impose the will of humanity on the quiet peace of January's dawn.
Timidly we broke the serenity, reverant of the silent vow.