Over the holidays, after nearly three years of living in our snug little saltbox, I felt a sudden urgency to buy drapes for three of the massive windows facing our back woods. Not only would they help retain heat in the cold, dark evenings and provide privacy from the squirrels and deer, they would make the battered old windows look better. The only problem was money.
We were enjoying a peaceful walk along the Kennebec River with friends when our young children stopped to play on the bank of a muddy pond. Perfect childhood bliss. Then, across the pond, three hunting dogs crashed through the brush and sprang into the water. It happened so quickly, it took a moment to see that one of the dogs carried something in its mouth: A mound of soft brown feathers.
“Oh, no,” my friend said.
We realized at the same time that the dog had found a duck. Our children froze, wide-eyed and watching the life-and-death struggle. Somehow the duck escaped. Quacking in terror, it flapped across the water with all three dogs swimming in pursuit.
“What’s for dinner?” my husband, Dana, asked after work this week.
“Hardboiled eggs,” I said.
“And?” He looked at me funny.
“Just hard boiled eggs,” I said.