November wind has a sound different from any other. It is easy to imagine the cave of the winds in some mythical Northland where the winds are born and the gods send them out to conquer the quiet air.

Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.

I know of nothing to compare with the welcome a dog gives you when you come home.

I cannot imagine a cat in an Obedience ring, running around in the hot sun and doing things on command. For it would not make sense. Whereas a dog is tolerant of your not making sense and only wants to fix things so you are happy.

the tentacles of today reach out like an octopus to swallow yesterday.

I suppose I am a sparrow, a stay-at-home bird.

Dog lovers are a good breed themselves.