It was a sopping wet and clammy day in northern central Massachusetts.
The temperature was low enough that great swaths of pale fog moved
between the dripping cinnamon-barked hemlock trees and out into cleared
spaces, like the Sargent-Colburn back yard. The back yard was edged
with forest on three sides, and very quiet. Nothing much moved except
the occasional black and putty-colored chickadee. The fog poured out
from between the hemlocks, and the world felt suspended in one of those
strange moments in time when you are aware of nature as a powerful
force apart from you, or perhaps *as* a part of you. It all depended on
how you looked at it. Regardless, it was a powerful feeling. Charged,
somehow, and engaging all of the senses. Sometimes the world was still,
and sometimes chaotic with slanting sheets of gray rain. Time passed.

The massive green and yellow John Deere 1020 diesel tractor sat apart
from the house, close to the edge of the woods. A few feet from it a
small fire made up of scrap wood and discarded pine boughs burned
grudgingly, yielding more smoke than heat. The smoke rose straight up
for about ten feet, then made a ninety degree turn and blanketed the
fog as a visibly separate darker layer. The smell of woodsmoke and
pine and rain was heavy in the air.

Beneath the tractor there were two small friends using one of the
wheels as a backrest while they gazed into the fire, taking comfort
from what heat it put out. And beneath those two small friends there
was a carefully folded navy blue sweat shirt that provided a dry spot
to recline upon. A careful examination would show that there was a
thin film of gray fur on the fabric. Not a surprise, as the two small
friends were Todd and Caff-Pow Sargent-Colburn the ferrets. Between
them they were gray and silver and dark brown depending on whether
you were looking at the slender backs or the darker ears and paws.

Caff-Pow was the larger of the two by far, and the lighter colored.
Todd was darker and more finely boned. Neither spoke, but simply
regarded the fire. Time passed. More rain fell, and the fire yielded
more and darker smoke. The flames guttered, and finally went out
entirely. The world smelled of cold rain and wet ashes. Neither ferret
moved to stir the embers and relight it. Todd moved over a little to
sit up against Caff-Pow, just for the warmth. But maybe for the comfort
of contact. He rested his head against Caff-Pow's broad shoulder and
whispered a single word, very quietly. You might be forgiven for
thinking that you had imagined it. But maybe not. Maybe he whispered
"distemper" and maybe not. Maybe the spit of rain that was falling at
that moment silvered his face with one single drop. Or maybe it was a
tear.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 7053]