These are the stories the Dogs tell, when the fires burn high and the wind is from the north.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
In open range fires it is about picking a spot and hoping it is the right location. At the head of the fire you have to worry about wind and humidity and a number of other factors.
I never made a daring rescue, which is the story people want to hear. I did go to my share of fires.
When our ancestors crouched about the camp fire at night, they told each other tales of gods and heroes, monsters and marvels, to hold back the terrors of the night. Such tales comforted and entertained, diverted and educated those who listened, and helped shape their sense of the world and their place in it.
Storytelling is what lights my fire.
My daughters are in kindergarten and second grade, so many of the stories they tell, write, or illustrate are about each other and our dog, Buster.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
From earliest childhood, I have rejoiced over the Santa Ana winds. I know those winds the way the Eskimos know their snows.
There is something about street dogs, about rescues; they have this knowing sense about them.
The ancient feud between cat and dog is not forgotten in the north, for the Lynx is the deadly foe of the Fox and habitually kills it when there is soft snow and scarcity of easier prey.
The seaman tells stories of winds, the ploughman of bulls; the soldier details his wounds, the shepherd his sheep.