Of dogs and gopher barks, and reading the signs

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.

I am pondering this morning whether I could substitute privet for gopher wood.  I have plenty of it piled up around the yard unless it has been swept down the hill in the raging waters coming off the mountain.  Probably a little too late to do the cubit measurements for an ark, so I guess I'll just stay on the sofa, drink coffee, write, and listen to the rain.

Actually I was up early this morning to restrain some dogs before the Hometown Heroes Run through downtown Oneonta got started. While I doubt that these particular dogs would have felt strongly enough about the runners to brave the rains (they are no longer young pups) you never know.  If there is anything worse than a barking dog chasing you, it is a rain-soaked, smelly barking dog. So while I didn't actually run in the race, I got up early to make the path easier for those who did.  So I had to come home and rest.

Yesterday I made my way up Shuff's mountain, along what was to be today's Hometown Heroes Run  route,  to feed these same dogs.  I was driving, not running.   It had been a long, rather stressful week, and my mind had yet geared down.  About half way up the mountain something on the side of the road caught my eye.  It was a white sign staked into the ground, as if it had just been placed for me to see.  It said,

"Give Up"

Well that was a fine how do you do.  What kind of sign was that to put on the side of a road on a Friday afternoon of a long, stressful week?    I was perplexed for a moment.  What was I supposed to give up?  Or what was I supposed to give up on?  How does the sign know I should give up?  But then I arrived at the dogs' house (and their overseer, the cat), and I didn't think much more about the sign. 

So this morning was dark, grey, raining, cold and dark when I got up to go corral the dogs (the cat never chases runners).  I was not yet de-stressed from the week, and, in fact, was already pre-stressing a little about next week.   I had just punched the accelerator of the Prius to power up Shuff's Mountain again when something on the side of the road caught my eye.  It was a white sign, staked into the ground, as if it had just been placed there for me to see.  It said,

"Never."

Dang.  It was like there was a negative sign troll living in the vines below the road, attacking the emotional health and ego of all who might pass.

What a pathetic message to start a miserable morning.

Then very quickly, something else caught my eye.  Another sign.  Oh great.  It said,

"Never."

A real double negative.  But before I could begin to be more dismayed, something else caught my eye. Another sign.

"Give up."

A second passed while my processor was buffering the download.

"Never."       

"Never."

"Give up."

"Never."   "Never."   "Give up."

"Never, never give up."

Well now, that's completely different.

Of course, the signs had been placed in order along the right of way a hundred or so feet apart, to encourage the runners as they attacked the steep, lengthy slope of Shuff Mountain.  "Never, never give up."  They were at perfect places and spaces to be seen by those who were truly running the journey, not cheaters like me  driving swiftly by, in Priuses, or Priae, whatever . . .

The complete message was revealed only to those who continued the difficult journey to the mountaintop. 

That's all from the sofa this morning.

Gotta run .  .  .