These adorable Corgis live in a restored, historic log home in Mineral Point. It is late in the afternoon and they are enjoying their tea-time repose in the last rays of the sun. Corgis are such charming little dogs; it’s no wonder they are the favorites of Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip.
Corgis were originally herding dogs, especially for cattle. Unlike the Border Collies, racing around the herd to bend it this way and that, Corgis herd by nipping the heels. If the cow kicks out, it will generally miss, because the Corgi is so short. It can flatten itself and be missed entirely. If attacked, it nips the cow’s nose. They are redoubtable little fellows.
Here is a poem about how our most satisfied moments in life are imagining what we will do and what we might have in future. How do we keep the fantasy of our future selves alive? Such fantasies always bring us the most happiness.
My husband and I stood together in the new mall
which was clean and white and full of possibility.
We were poor so we liked to walk through the stores
since this was like walking through our dreams.
In one we admired coffee makers, blue pottery
bowls, toaster ovens as big as televisions. In another,
we eased into a leather couch and imagined
cocktails in a room overlooking the sea. When we
sniffed scented candles we saw our future faces,
softly lit, over a dinner of pasta and wine. When
we touched thick bathrobes we saw midnight
swims and bathtubs so vast they might be
mistaken for lakes. My husband’s glasses hurt
his face and his shoes were full of holes.
There was a space in our living room where
a couch should have been. We longed for
fancy shower curtains, flannel sheets,
shiny silverware, expensive winter coats.
Sometimes, at night, we sat up and made lists.
We pressed our heads together and wrote
our wants all over torn notebook pages.
Nearly everyone we loved was alive and we
were in love but liked wanting. Nothing
was ever as nice when we brought it home.
The objects in stores looked best in stores.
The stores were possible futures and, young
and poor, we went shopping. It was nice
then: we didn’t know we already had everything.
— Faith Shearin