A flying black Lab

Many of you commented on my new banner art by Harriet Peck Taylor. Her art highlights the magical, mystical, whimsical, and exuberant world of animals. Do you recognize the dog with the flopping ears below?

If not, maybe this photo will help. It was taken today, in a snow squall, as R galloped through a golden brown meadow rather than a forest of wildflowers.

My day started with a walk next to the head-bobbing K. I'm not sure why she's limping so much - whether her limp is caused by pain or adjusting to having fewer toes. I'm anxious to get the final pathology report that will hopefully lay my worries to rest. Regardless, she seemed happy to be able to sit tall above her kingdom this morning.

We explored the base of a jumble of boulders that our friend the bobcat loves. If clouds had not surrounded us, you'd be able to see snowy mountains behind K.

As we walked slowly, I noticed an unusual sight - a spider walking across the snow. The temperature hovered around 15°F so I was amazed that this animal could move at all. Unlike most other animals, spiders move their legs using a hydraulic system of body fluids. I'm surprised those fluids weren't frozen solid.

As K and I walked toward home, we passed an aspen grove that was covered in deep green leaves when her paw ordeal began. It seems like a lifetime ago. I recently took a photo of her in that grove at dusk with the aspen tree skeletons and an inky dark sky behind her.

Today, after leaving K at home (a concept that still feels foreign to me but K seems to accept it), R and I rode into the forest on icy trails with snow drifting out of the sky. It was cold, so bitterly cold that I struggled to keep my fingers and toes from going numb and to stifle coughs provoked by the biting air. We stopped briefly atop Hug Hill for R to stand tall on a stump. Soon, however, we were rolling again. The cold crept into the seams of my clothing and my fingers lost feeling whenever I stopped moving.

After my short time with R, I bolstered my armor against the frigid air with more layers and multiple chemical heat packs per foot and hand. I rolled out again, this time alone. It was still snowing and a fresh carpet of white soft flakes paved my path.

As I pedaled, I spotted the elk herd, more than a hundred-strong, spread out across an endless meadow. Before they spotted me, almost the entire herd was resting, lying on the cold and snowy grass. As soon as the alarm sounded, they stood one-by-one, waiting to see if they needed to flee. I snapped a quick photo and disappeared to save them the trouble.

Near the end of my ride, the veil of gray started to lift to our northwest, and a mountain shimmered in the sliver of blue sky with dark ominous clouds drifting past it. It looked like an apparition to my frozen brain and to my eyes that hadn't been able to pierce the clouds all day.

I arrived home completely frozen but happy that my wrist was better than yesterday. I guess it is just a sprain, thank goodness. We don't need another injury in our pack!

To emphasize that the Year of Bobcat is not yet over, Mr. Bobcat visited our clearing (or is it "his clearing"?) last night but my camera captured only his derriere as he sauntered confidently away.

Here's to the bobcat spirit! He's looking strong, fluffy, and very well-fed!