A Season

The day has been remarkably cool and breezy, the middle of June but feeling more like early October. This morning, I stood in the parking lot at work and drank in the sight of a rainbow that seemed to stretch from one end of town to the other. The center of the bow was obscured by a charcoal-and-pink cloud that looked like the smoke from a cursed city afire. I watched the clouds and procrastinated entering my building, and I wondered what other symbols of goodness and blessing will be hijacked for unsavory causes and purposes.

This past Saturday marked three months since Jinx came to live at the farm. Spring was just about to begin, and now summer is just about to begin. An entire season with The Spotted Menace, and it’s been a sweet one.

Saturday, Jinx and I sat in our front meadow and watched the farmer who owns the field across the road as he baled hay. His tractor clanked along the lines of raked hay, pulling the baling machine behind. The machine gobbled up the lines of drying grass, and every few minutes, a large round bale the size of a small car rolled out of the back of the machine and came to rest in the green field.

Sunday morning, we took a walk in that same field. As we approached it, Jinx stiffened and growled. Like me, he does not like change, and the large cylinders sitting before us were a most certain change. The dog charged one of the bales, then stopped short and ran from it, then reversed course and ran back to it, faux-barking and huffing and leaping like a kangaroo with asthma. I think my laughter irritated him, but at least it shamed him into settling down. After a minute, he stalked among the bales and inspected each one, then pretended to be bored by their presence. No more baleful looks from The Spotted Menace.

I went to one of the bales and tried to climb it. The less said about this attempt, the better. I looked at the plastic mesh encasing the hay, mindful of Jinx’s fondness for dragging the stuff around. Then I shoved the bale, causing it to rock just a bit. I patted it, then thumped it hard. A thick, resonating whomp came forth, and the sensation was pleasant and familiar. I struck the bale again, stepped back and stared at it, and then it came to me. The bale felt and sounded exactly like a heavy Everlast training bag. Punching. There it was. Not just a bag, but a makiwara, the straw-covered punching post used in classical karate-do to toughen the hands and feet and build calluses. I stood in front of the bale, dropped into the most passable Zenkutsu-dachi (forward stance) I could manage, chambered my right fist at my hip, then snapped a punch forward into the bale. Whomp! It felt so familiar, and the give of the hay was a much more realistic sensation than the barely-yielding makiwara board of my youth. It felt very close to how it feels to strike a human rib cage. If I were talking with a young man who wanted to take up classical karate, I would urge him to try and find a round bale of hay for his punching practice. I wonder if I am the first geezer to make this discovery. I wonder if I can make money from it. I wonder if my hip and legs will finally stop being sore tomorrow. A fellow takes one measly stance for a few measly minutes over the weekend and pays for it into Monday evening. There was a time…

This next anecdote should be titled “In Which Jinx Aspires to a Career in Hollywood.” We have a sliding patio door made of glass, and a screen door slides out in place of the glass one when we want fresh air. Sunday afternoon, I was outside with the dog and went inside to retrieve something. I slid the screen door shut and didn’t realize that Jinx was right behind me. I also didn’t realize that he had never encountered the screen door before. A loud WHAM! behind me made me leap, and when I turned around, I saw Jinx sitting just outside the door, shaking his head like Wile E. Coyote after an encounter with something from the Acme Company. The screen had a large dent in the center, and a small tear at the bottom. Quick study that he is, Jinx was very leery of the screen door the rest of the day. I taped a large X in blue painter’s tape on the screen just to give the dog some visual perspective and to remind him that he had failed his screen test. And now we get to buy a new screen door. I hope Jinx retains this lesson and slows down in his comings and goings through that particular door. Not only do I not want to pay for yet another screen door, I don’t want the little fellow to strain himself.

~ S.K. Orr