Lester Holt said on the news last night that we have good reasons to feel hopeful, foremost among them vaccines in arms. Sean got his first shot last week, which made me start to feel hope.
Oddly, what uplifted me even more was the small real thought of honey in my ginger-lemon tea, and the pictures I saw but didn't take: lace tree shadow on the lime-green wall; gold truck dumping gathered snow, midmorning sparkle in the puddle beneath. Just the noticing was enough.
But what gave me most hope this week was the dogs being happy in the sun and melting snow.
This is Frankie. Most dogs don't appreciate the camera, but Frankie is decidedly not most dogs. He's here for you.
Darby is queen of all the dogs. She keeps an eye on everyone, but she's wise and fair. If she really likes you, she'll come sit on your foot.
One of Po's favorite games is to drop the ball a careful inch from his muzzle and fake like he's bored with it. Dogs who take the bait get schooled on the finer points of keepaway.
Jasper's new best friend is Ben, an infinite loop of floppy-puppy trust and joy.
Darby's person says the geese are practicing their takeoffs and landings, so I let Jasper inspire them into the sky for some bonus drills. After they wing their way up, honking indignation, Jasper circles wide and returns to me. Smiling.