Constant mist and rain for ten straight days match the muddy muck and gloomy gray skies.  Where are the dazzling blue skies and blazing sun?  The battle with the mud is a constant nuisance when it rains out in the remote rural area with dirt roads.  The drive becomes a quagmire and the dogs track mud everywhere, such a small sacrifice in exchange for the serenity and beauty of living on the shore of the large inland lake bordering Texas and Oklahoma.

The haven is Betsy’s retreat, nestled into a cluster of oaks far away from the dead end road.  Few folks live out along the narrow point, the land is surrounded with water on three sides.  Nothing but water and sky for neighbors suits Betsy.  The seclusion is a salve to her soul and invigorates her aging frame.  Her companions are the three dogs, the 5 year old yellow lab and the sibling pups, a blonde female and black male.  The dead end road several hundred feet down her dirt drive is a dangerous, narrow, curving lane.  It was no surprise when the county named the remote ill maintained stretch of dead end road Deadman’s Road as the locals had called it for years.  The debate rages whether the road acquired such a somber name due to the few accidental deaths or the half dozen small cemetery plots scattered along the winding road.

Despite the damp cold rain, long lazy walks along the shoreline are a part of the day.  The dogs, especially the pups will clamber and whine until Betsy dons her walking gear.  A gortex jacket hangs on a peg and mud boots wait by the back door.  Betsy has to battle the jubilant, licking joy of the dogs to lace up her boots.  Tails wagging, claws clattering on the tile floor and yips of joy accompany her out the door.

The trail to the lake is down a steep incline and meanders through the dense forest of oak trees.  The dogs race forward.  The blonde pup, Bella sports a white plume on her tail and she likes to lead the way with her feathery beacon swinging back and forth.  The black pup, Jake is always the first in the water.  He runs down the hill, across the barren patch of sand and splashes playfully into the water.  Betsy moves at a much slower pace, watching her step on the slippery steep slope.  The yellow lab, Molly chases along with the pups but stops occasionally to check on Betsy’s progress.  Once they all reach the sandy shore the dogs frolic gleefully, bounding in and out of the water.  The foursome begin the trek, facing into the north wind and walk in the sand despite the gray sky, light mist and chill wind.

The view of the lake is stunning, long stretches of sand and rocky cliffs to the north and sandy shore with rugged clay banks to the south and a wide expanse of water to the west.  The wind is blowing a good 15 to 20 mph out of the north and kicks up substantial waves.  The beauty of the lake is her temperament, one day water as smooth as glass and the next deep churning waves.   Betsy’s pulls out the bright fluorescent bumper and throws it far out in the water.  The three dogs chase after it, a race to see who can retrieve the toy first.  The dogs leap through the water until it’s too deep then set into a steady swim.  The pups are a mixed breed, half lab and retriever, they all love the water.  The daily routine includes playing fetch with the pups for several hours and long walks where fetch and retrieve is full of antics as the three dogs wrangle and fight over the one toy.

After a long day of work and play the dogs curl up contentedly on the rug in front of the fire. The gray skies gradually darken overhead as the invisible sun slips silently beyond the horizon.   Betsy wraps her hands around the cup of tea to warm them while curled in a large overstuffed chair.  The fire takes the chill off the sun room.  The ease of modern conveniences and electronics, the propane burner turns on and off with the flick of a switch but the warmth and cozy comfort of the flickering flames soothes the human instinct to warm by a fire.  Windows surround them on three sides in the elevated oasis.  The trees shedding their leaves whip about in the wind and clink against the windows.

The only sound is the low moaning of the wind and irregular tapping of branches against the house frame, Betsy sits contentedly relaxing in the quiet solitude enjoying the warmth of the fire and mug of tea.  Soon, it’ll be supper time but for now with the dogs sprawled and asleep, she sits and gazes into the flickering flames.

 A sudden gust of wind rattles the windows as the sound of screeching tires startles Betsy awake, she must have dozed off.  Muttering, some drunken fool or wild eyed teenager more than likely hugging a tree or stuck in the bar ditch.  Shaking her head, Betsy pushes herself off the chair and stretches her stiff joints.  The dark reflects back in the bank of windows as she gazes down at the sleeping dogs, the large yellow snoring softly in her sleep.  The black pup, Jake perks up his ears, he’s the alpha of the pack and guards his territory with a soft warning bark.  “Hush up, Jake.  It’s just the wind.”  Betsy chastises and reaches down to ruffle his fur.  Just as she reaches out her hand, Jake is up, hackles raised and his bark has turned into a low growl.   The door bell chimes as Jake rushes to the top of the steps and stares down at the front door.

“Drats, some fool is stuck in the mud.”  Betsy thinks, most of the time they pester her neighbor to the south, his house is much closer to the road and visible.  “Come along, dogs” as now all three are standing guard at the top of the stairs.  “Let’s see who is here on such a dark dreary night.”