My dog, Roediger, decided to release an über-underground self-titled industrial album called:
ЯÖDIGER: Hard Wired for Treats.
This is his gritty, “urban” photoshoot.
Dogs in the Fog
Almost like the Hedgehog in the Fog, but less iconic.
"Where are we going?"
...WAIT FOR IT...
"I haven't the foggiest idea!"
Sorry about the bad puns, but that is how I imagine dogs talking. :)
Skiing through the Snow Storm
This weekend in smartphone photography: I test my Russianness yet again by cross-country skiing into a snow storm. (Both Vladimir Putin and I use the same PR agency, in case you haven't noticed. Just kidding!)
Backcountry skiing in the Rocky Mountains involves living on the edge.
Literally!
Initially, the sky was as azure as it would have been at the height of summer. The dogs followed me along with their usual circling and play-fighting, and the only sign of the impending storm was the wind growing ever stronger.
Even though this year marks my return to cross-country skiing for the first time since high school, I already have my favorites. Breaking through freshly fallen, virgin snow is one of them.
And the shadows.
As is often the case in the mountains, the weather change occurred rapidly, with the insurgent and menacing storm clouds inadvertently (or deliberately) making the Sun look almost fairy-tale-like.
At times, you could see the exact boundary in the heavenly battle above, while risking falling onto one of the dogs, who somehow always ended up too close to my skis.
And the dogs themselves? After about an hour, they decided that my Russianness had been tested sufficiently and convinced me to go home.
Just in time.
This Week in Mobile
This week in smartphone photography, we cross-country skied in the mountains during a massive snow storm!
Whenever I post about skiing alongside all those large and mythic-looking ravens, I am not being metaphorical. I actually mean doing so literally.
My little, low-riding, but brave warrior seemed unfazed by the dark and menacing clouds heading in our direction.
These clouds brought gusting winds and carried sharp snow pellets hitting our faces along the way.
But that made the experience all the more exhilarating—so exhilarating, in fact, that it had to be repeated three times!
Schemers
"Gee, Brain, what do you want to do tonight?"
"The same thing we do every night, Pinky—try to take over the world!"
Paw Prints
When life gets overwhelming, it's time to take a brief time-out with your best friends.
Cheesy, I know, but also therapeutic.
Wrinkles
Where Wolf Howls Can be Heard
Earlier in the week, Roediger, the aristocratic basset (despite the drool!), and I climbed to the top of the world, though it wasn't even the top of the mountain. The valley below--in baby-blue pastels--along with shorter peaks creates that impression, as does the sheer feeling of ascent.
And it is where the basset stands that we heard afternoon wolf howls on a number of occasions, but only in the winter. They'd come from all directions, north and south, above and below, eerie and awe-inspiring. Unable to differentiate between responses and echoes, we felt disoriented and, for once, I was glad not to be concealed in the blue snow shadows cast by the Moon.
And on a different (inappropriately dressed!) hike, I stand not too far from a deer carcass, that very "natural vanitas," which I photographed a few weeks ago. The wolves were here too, as the deer was dismembered by them, tossing its skull several feet away.
The latter now rests surrounded by Autumn's unchallenged advance.
And I? I secretly hope that no one takes it, so that I could photograph it again, at a different turn of Nature's cycle.
Today in Mobile
Today in poorly shot, but oh-so-adorable smartphone photography: my desire to kidnap my mom's new dachshund grandson is rising!
A Pawed Surprise!
An unexpected turn of events: my parents' breeder requested they take their dachshund puppy this past Sunday. The latter was supposed to occur after my departure from the Canadian prairies back to the American mountains.
Naturally, I'm ecstatic.
I'm covered in puppy kisses and bite marks from head to toe.
This is a little distracting from all the work I brought with me, but, but, but....that distinct new-puppy smell!
Pelagea (Polly) was a bit perplexed, however:
"I didn't know I had a son...of a different breed."
Polly lost her friend, Sharikov, a black and tan dachshund, seven months ago. Sharikov was a dog I adopted as an adult, but my parents eventually took him in, since I had dissertation-related travel obligations.
Two years ago, when Polly was herself a baby, the story was reversed: