[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]Rain cover barely removed, Baylor leaps into the sidecar. Sits down, looks up at me grinning, waiting for his load-up treat. A dog of the road, he’s ready for an adventure, unwilling to be left behind again.
Concerned about his self-inflicted wound, I’ve made an appointment at the local vet clinic. For some dogs this might be sad news, but to Baylor it’s a fantastic turn of events. A chance to make friends, show off, earn lots of scratches, and gobble plenty of treats.
Leg inspected, we puzzle over if it’s just a hot spot or something more. Perhaps a spider bite. Regardless, there’s not much to do besides clean up the wound and start a round of antibiotics. Baylor practically prances out the door. Nonplussed by the poking and prodding, he’s simply thrilled for the attention.
I make a mental note to be more like him. No time for the negative, pure excitement for the good.
Strolling through town, we make our way to the book store. Parking Baylor out front the nearby farmstand vendor declares they’ll be fast friends, looks pleased as I vow to return to buy produce after selecting my books.
My pace slows as I read titles, lightly trail a hand over shiny, bright covers, thumb through fresh, untouched pages.
For as long as I can remember, books have called to me. Even before I could read, I loved turning the pages, making up stories to accompany the illustrations. Once I understood the language, a new world opened. I’d systematically work my way through books – reading everything in the Box Car Kid series, devouring the Goosebumps books faster than RL Stine could write them, covering all of Oprah’s book club picks in a few months, working my way through all the library had to offer on alternative building, homesteading, art, and adventure, tome after tome after tome. Fiction providing a strong imagination and respect for a well-told story, non-fiction filling my brain with practical knowledge and skills.
Small bookstores are often hit or miss, but this one is right on target. Jam-packed with books, but still organized. A non-fiction section equal to the aisles filled with tales of love and crime. A staff that knows where books are, easily offers assistance and then fades into the background as you circle the offerings yet again.
Backpack full of books and locally grown greens, I’m eager to get back to the cabin.
Excited to settle into a weekend filled with my favorite things: sunshine, a good book, lovingly grown food and my best friend.
Perfectly simple. Simply perfect.
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