September 9, 2007

White Dog, Steve and I were unhappy to discover that the restaurant which served Chicago Italian style beef sandwiches had closed down. After a less than satisfying fast food lunch, the day was salvaged by a stop at the cottonwood bosque by the river. In a perfectly moody autumn afternoon we strolled through the gathering storm clouds and long grasses. White Dog looked so beautiful with the breeze ruffling through her hair. The summer sun has left Steve as tawny as the golden dappling of the tree canopy. Together in that setting they made my soul sing.