The long rainy evening gone, dawn was welcomed by a warm winter wind, noisy and interesting.
Dakota slept alone on the couch last night. She'd spent the early evening pacing soaking wet with one parent after the other insistent on action. Glenn and I were trying to protect the carpets and the chances of getting a full night's sleep. She just wanted to stay inside until the storm passed.
Eventually though -- after two or three frantic trips back into the house to be toweled off and wait for another try -- Dakota did her business and we all settled in for the night.
So, after a cup of coffee, when she and I went out this morning, I think we were both relieved that the rain had passed. In its place, though, the leaves stayed busy and made themselves heard as the moonless sky, giving way to dawn, revealed a few pale stars and harmless puffy clouds against a still gray sky.
We made our way to the corner as usual, but our path had changed. More than a couple of garbage hoppers along the street had been toppled. An empty white plastic grocery bag tumbled across a neighbor's lawn twenty yards ahead. I wondered what it meant. If a black cat crossing means bad luck, might a white bag bring good? Dakota caught up with the sack when the breeze brought it to our side of the street. I pulled her back to me quickly though, and onward we went.
Good luck or bad, the energy of the moment was fun.
I'm embarrassed to admit that it was an hour or so before a better meaning for our white bag crossing wandered into my head. Perhaps, you silly woman, your neighborhood was asking you to follow Dakota's lead and pick up that bag. Fill it up with the litter you carefully step over each morning and do a bit of good on the last day before office work consumes most of your time.
Luckily, opportunities passed need not be opportunities lost. I retraced my steps a short time ago and filled up a fresh new bag with remnants of this season's Tenth Street debris. It felt like good luck to me.
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