Walking the Dogs

This morning it was rainy and cold but my two canine companions didn't seem to notice. I put off our morning walk for as long as possible, but dogs will be dogs and eventually they need to go out. As I put on my foul weather gear--an enormous, lined raincoat with a gigantic hood that covers an old hat with ear flaps that belonged to my father--and laced up my water repellent hiking boots, I contemplated my resistance to walking on days like this. Generally, I love the outdoors--the scorching heat of summer sends me to the freezing water of the Yuba River, our local swimming hole. The blue skies and the warm temperatures of Spring take me hiking to Bridgeport and the Independence Trail. Nothing thrills me as much as waking up to an unexpected morning of snowfall, knowing the dogs and I might get in a full day of play before it melts. The golden hues of autumn remind me of my childhood in Ohio where my Grandfather would rake great piles of leaves then call for me to jump in. I love nature--except for when it rains.

As I sloshed down the street and around the block, hands buried deep in the pockets of my "walking coat," I imagined what it might be like for me if just this once, I didn't resist the experience, but instead chose to watch it, even enjoy it. I slowed down my pace and stopped avoiding the puddles. Instead of commanding the dogs to "do it," I let them be dogs. As I waited for them I watched drop after heavy drop fall on thirsty leaves. Maybe this summer, unlike last, the air won't be filled with smoke from nearby forest fires and we'll be able to enjoy early summer instead of staying inside away from the smoke. As I walked I noticed that the falling rain was the predominant sound--no blowers, chain saws, barking dogs, or mothers walking with strollers. Except for the sound of the rain, I was alone with just my thoughts. In a moment of gratitude, I looked up at the sky, and that's when I remembered why I didn't like to walk in the rain. Within seconds my glasses were covered with drops and my world became a green and brown blur. Rubbing the lens with my gloves only made the problem worse. "Let's go, guys," I called to my dogs, and picking up the pace, we trotted back to the house. The heat from the fireplace caused the lenses to fog up completely, but at least I was warm and had a tissue to wipe them off.

I started wearing glasses when I was seven to correct a severe astigmatism. After being fogged out or blinded by severe snow or weather, over time, I simply avoided being out in the rain. Why not contacts? I tried them. My distance vision was amazing, but I was already at an age where my friends required reading glasses, and in addition to contacts, I needed glasses to see anything closer than three feet. Contacts fixed one problem and created another. What I realized today was that I could enjoy walking in the rain...as long as I don't look up.