Skip to main content

Excerpt from A Long Unexpected Walk Home

    Again, the man wasn’t ready with his camera and another large angular blue-gray bird, a Great Blue Heron, flew from the water-filled ditch and away from view. Argh. The man’s companion on his unexpected long walk home from deer camp was a female Chesapeake/Lab mix dog of unquestionable character and temperament who had suddenly knelt and rolled onto her back and began squirming uninhibitedly, all four legs flapping in wild abandon as she ground some foul invisible scent into her shiny long-haired coat, her eyes closed, her tongue lolling, in sensual gratification known to but a very few fortunate canines along this stretch of county road. She owed this instantaneous indulgence to her distant cousins fox, coyote, and wolf, one of whom may well have created this secret drop ’n roll spot for just such carnal pleasure, for feral animals have their compulsions too.
    Wouldn’t it resolve a lot of marital problems in today’s society if spouses so infidelity-inclined had such unobtrusive places to take the edge off in the course of the day that harmed no one, was free, and accepted as commonplace? Just a little patch of grass in some out-of-the-way place where all genders could drop and roll to their satisfaction and go on about their business. 
    “Sven, you got some grass on your shoulder there, bud. Let me brush it off for you. M-m-m-m, what’s that marvelous scent you’re wearing?”
    "I found it over on 54th and Main as I waited for the Metro. I wish I could bottle it.”
    Why is it that after a dog rolls in the stuff, it turns around and gives it one last good sniff, its knees almost buckling in renewed anticipation, its whole body aquiver preparing to drop ’n roll again? It’s like the activity erases memory. Their expression is, “Well now… What'’s this?” And unless you admonish them for it, they’re all primed to do it again.   
    "Ishdah! Stop that now! Quit! Get up!”

Comments

Some humans I know might never leave such a spot.

Popular posts from this blog

GUD-RIDGE! MAYBE THIS YEAR, BABY!

    Late April renders up another fine Joe tradition hereabouts, the Gud-drudge’ (Goodridge) Lions Annual Smelt Fry, in Gud-drudge’ (Goodridge), Minnesota, seventeen miles east and a mile north of Tuff Rubber Balls (Thief River Falls), Minnesota. ‘Gud-drudge’ is the local vernacular for ‘Goodridge,’ and its proper annunciation, is the separation between towners and tourists.     A small rural town, with a population of about 150 people, is an agricultural community residing within and well beyond the city limits. Often several miles apart, resident farmsteads dot the remote flatland topography of northwestern Minnesota, whose inhabitants often share the lifelong experiences of church, school, employment, and/or family relation.    The smelt fry is a community event that brings people home from across the region. Beginning in the morning, and in combination with area garage sales, auctions begin around town selling consignment items from boats to barrettes, wood stoves, ductwork, framed

Friends to the End: Delmer Roseen and Curtis Johnson

  Delmer and Curtis: Friends to the End      From where he was buried on Saturday April 11th, 1992, the tin roofs of his buildings could be seen through the trees. Across the fence, at the foot of his grave, were the fields he farmed. Between them, Mikinaak Creek--so much a part of Delmer Roseen’s life and sadly, his death--still winds through willow slough, over beaver dams below the Palmville Cemetery, and past his door to the South Fork of the Roseau River, only a few yards to the southeast.         Delmer lived northeast of us in Palmville Township. If I looked just right, I could see his yard light through the woods between his place and mine. Either of us could hear the soft ‘clung’ of the rope and pulley against the flag pole in the cemetery at the corner of our two farms. Red willows, popple islands, and slough grass; green mossy fence posts; the often submerged patchwork of woven wire, and the depth of water in the creek vaguely separated us.      Delmer had live

August 6th, 2020 Tired of Writing

                    Comment on Parental Rights 1869-1940     I finished the second installment of my grandfathers biography I wrote in the Wannaskan Almanac for today, late yesterday evening. http://wannaskanalmanac.blogspot.com/2020/08/thursday-august-6th-2020-parental.html       I had worked on it for a good day, by Wednesday, including a few hours on Tuesday too, and in my waning energy for it decided just to wrap it up, rather than keep slogging through dozens of transcribed interviews, page after page, searching for some item that would fit my story, chronologically. In truth, I wanted to be writing something fun.     It wasn't like I wasn't interested in what I was mired in; I enjoy a good slog once in awhile myself, but my dilemma was how do I keep it interesting to others and not get bogged down? I could've just copied pages to be sure, but I needed it to flow somewhat smoothly, and not become just a repetitive list of names, dates and places. Argh. But t