Fayston, Vermont. My dogs begin each day with the excitement of Christmas morning: They burst from the back door and race into the yard to find the “presents” of smells left for them overnight. Sometimes Charlie Brown likes his gift so much that he rolls in it with joy. Those days do not feel like holidays. But sometimes, as I’m pouring my coffee while they are unwrapping their presents, I see a gift left for me: a rainbow, or a giant moon setting, or a hummingbird feeding, or maybe a plucky little forest critter who challenges Linus to a race. (The critter always wins.) On those days, my coffee always tastes a little richer. Like sprinkles on ice cream.
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