The summer felt long and lush this year. Just as the mistress of Woods Edge Farm became accustomed to waking with the sun, the fall seemed to suddenly appear with its falling leaves and gray skies. It was the end of November now and she had quickly become reacquainted with waking before the sun, the moon still high in the sky as she drank her morning coffee. Although awake, the mistress lay in her bed. The cracking of the bones of the home and the whoosh of the wind outside her window gave away the cold that had swept in from the north the night before. She knew it was time to come out from under the covers and begin her day, but the warmth of her husband’s feet and the peace of of the home outside the bedroom resigned her to staying put for a few moments more. It was Birdie, their Heeler mix, that ultimately commanded she climb out from her den and the two start their morning with their usual breakfast and walk.
After getting herself dressed and ready for the day, she went out to the kitchen to see Birdie patiently waiting by the front door, ready for her walk. Looking out the kitchen window, she could see the grass had gone from green to a silvery-white, the sky still bright with stars. As she began to bundle up, the cats brushed her ankles and calves, letting her know their food bowls were empty and to please remedy the situation before leaving. Once kitten bellies were filled, the mistress wrapped her wool scarf, soft from years of wear, around her neck, grabbed her heaviest coat from the hooks on the mudroom wall, and donned the first hat she could find from the full basket of winter wear. She fetched the leash and held it up for Bird to see. The small leap off her front legs and towards the door said it all.
The two ventured out into the cold morning. Birdie took off towards the pasture before the mistress could put her leash on, but she knew the dog would meet her again further up the drive. She could see her breath now, feel the cold air in her nose. The first morning of the season for these temperatures, she thought to herself. She wondered if it was here to stay or if it would there would be a warm snap again before the winter held its claim for the season.
As the mistress reached the road, Birdie joined her and held still for the slightest moment while the mistress attached the leash to her collar. Then the heeler was off, her powerful hind legs after something. The mistress was used to this, the sudden pull when the leash reached its limit. She tried to pay attention, to notice when Birdie saw a squirrel or rabbit or anything that might incite a sprint. She was about two for ten on this and her shoulder gave off the slightest ache from mornings past when the dog nearly pulled her over.
The two steadied themselves and began their walk. It wasn’t always easy for the mistress to leave the house while it was still this dark, now the cold adding another reason her mind begged her to stay in bed a little longer. But each morning she was reminded, once she and Bird were out, that this was one of the best parts of her day. The two of them, the peace surrounding, the world beginning to wake up for the day.
As it turned out, Birdie heard the noise before the mistress did. The dog stopped and turned her face towards home. “What is it, girl?" The mistress turned and then heard it - a truck in the distance. It was quite early for anyone else to be out. All the same, the mistress asked Birdie to resume their walk by giving the leash a tug and the dog obliged.
As the two made their way down the road, the sound of the truck grew louder. It became clear this wasn’t just a pick-up truck, but something larger and headed towards them, the sound growing closer. The sound in the middle of the day, in town, would be nothing, the mistress told herself. But everything was sharper in the quiet of the cold, dark morning, on the country road they were walking on. Senses were heightened. The mistress told herself there was nothing about this that should bother or disturb her, and yet for some reason, as the sound of the large truck grew closer, she felt a bit of discomfort. She wasn’t sure why.
She continued to walk when the lights of the truck came around the curve of the road. It was driving slowly, albeit down the center of the road, with its headlights seemingly on their bright setting. Birdie turned and barked. The mistress felt the same in her own way - how dare this piece of machinery and whoever was driving it disturb the peace of this quiet morning? They continued on their walk and the road was now lit ahead of them, the lights of the truck bright enough to illuminate the county, she thought. As the truck grew closer and now very loud, the mistress thought, Birdie and I will just step to the side of the road and let this truck pass. Then we will turn and head home.
But the truck did not pass. As it grew closer to the pair, the truck slowed down and began to come to a stop. The mistress’s heart began to beat. What was going on? Why was the truck coming to a stop? It was dark and no one else around or awake for miles. Her mind raced as the door to the truck opened.
A boot touched the step out of the truck and then another on the ground as the door to the truck swung open. It was a man, maybe five feet tall, possibly seventy years old, with a black toque, black coat, and the rosiest cheeks you’ve ever seen. “Good morning, young lady! And good morning to this sweet pup!”, he said as he approached. “Do you mind if I give your dog a bone?”, he said as held up a milk bone, “It’s just one of the favorite parts of my job, seeing folks out walking with their dogs or meeting these pups at the homes I stop by each day.” The mistress looked up. It was a garbage collection truck. “Of course, thank you!”, the mistress replied, having felt so silly that she was ever on guard at any point that morning. “She would love a bone, thank you.” Birdie walked toward the kind man as he gave her the bone. She gently took the bone out of his hand, laid it on the ground, and then leaned into the driver as she leaned into the Farmer she knew so well. “Ah, what a good dog. Such a good dog,” the man said as he rubbed her head. “Well, back to work! You two have a good day today.”
“You as well! And thank you again,” the mistress replied.
The driver climbed back into his truck, shut the door, and drove down the road to continue his morning route.
“Come on, Bird. Let’s go home.” As the mistress and Birdie turned back towards the farmhouse, Birdie with the bone in her mouth, the mistress began to think of the beauty of the moment that just happened and how many other times in her life she had been given the gift of love wrapped in fear. Too many to count, she thought, and did her best to put the recollecting off for another time so that she could bask in the one that had just happened.
The pair returned to the gravel drive of the farmhouse. The light was now on in the kitchen window, which meant the farmer was awake and making coffee. The mistress pulled Birdie to her and rubbed the dog’s side as she always did as she unlatched the leash from her collar, right before the dog began to run back to the house, the mistress close behind.