Yesterday I took my gundog for a walk around the pond. The power had been out for an hour or so, but it was a gorgeous morning–sunshine, mild temps, no wind. A beautiful November day. As we crossed a causeway to an island in the middle of the pond, Sophie-Bea looked across the water with curious longing. A flock of ducks dipped their wings into the pond as they skimmed the surface, flying over, hundreds of yards away. I don’t take my dog hunting so I forget that she’s a bird-dog–a pointer mix and a hunter at heart. She stood rigid and pointed her snout in the direction of the ducks. She’s a happy dog though. She might have been a gundog school drop-out, being small for the breed (only 25 pounds) and wimpy in the rain. Like most gundogs, she’s the sensitive type. At home, she has 4 acres to explore, some of it wetlands. She prances like a fox through the marshes and meadows near our home, and trots along the trails that snake around the ponds and lakes.

 Normally we delight in listening to the loons call from one end of the pond to the other. But yesterday morning’s power outtage had many people running their generators. The sound was eerie. Like groans from not one but dozens of lake monsters, the generators sent their motor-cries bouncing off either end of the pond, coming from several different directions at once. I stood ridgid and listened. I thought of my grandfather, who liked tending to the generator in winter-time. He was an engineer and in the ’30s and ’40s, a machinist with the U.S. Navy. I wish he were still alive so I could get his advice on generators and how to install one at my house. I am told by friends and neighbors in the area that we’ll lose our power 1-2 times a week all winter long, sometimes with the power out for 2-3 days at a go–and at times, for no particular reason.