Old Victor and Marcella have their routine. In morning and at night feedings, Marcella enters the stall and lays with Victor-I like to think it is to make sure he is okay, or that he is still with us, but I also think she has an innate passion to test the hay for quality! She loves to get right in the hay and eat it.When I put hay out for the group, Marcella always puts herself in the middle, and they eat all around her. This is a very common trait of Maremmas-and I suppose other guard breeds.
The light is so beautiful at these moments in the barn–makes my photography not that good, but sometimes I catch a second that is astounding when I am in it-like the way the honey colored light lays on Victor's white coat, as if Goegres de la Tour had painted it himself.
I am unsure if Victor will make it through the winter. I am watching. I don't want him to suffer and he is getting up less and less. But what I am doing-I am enjoying his company. I always do, but often it is a rushed time if I have to get back to the studio or have an errand. After so many losses this summer of elders that were glue in my heart-Aldo, Stevie, Priscilla, Rudy-and so many others-I am aware of our tenuous lives here. Who knows who will go tomorrow-it might be me. I must drink it up, be fully present, as much is as possible.
I was trying to reach a one word synopsis of what it is like to sit with Victor, while he munches hay, the light on his head, Marcella near by me, and the other animals in the near distance all grinding and swallowing Earth's feathered grasses, the smells of mud, rams, breath and rain all around.
One word, what would it be?
I decided it had to be...here.
We are nowhere else but here, we are not in yesterday, or next week and we aren't thinking about Sunday because it is Tuesday and Tuesday is just fine, until tomorrow when it will be Wednesday.
I am beginning to talk like Pooh Bear.
