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Layksuh Hayull
I sat outside this morning with bible, breviary, and notebook, my coffee steaming in the cool and sugared mugginess of the day’s initial pages. Up in the woods in the direction of the new-born sun, a screech owl called, sounding as always like a tiny spectral horse whinnying. His appearance is early this year; I usually don’t hear the screech owls until mid-to-late September. And I sat and sipped and wondered if his eerie song was considered a harbinger in the mythos of any peoples. The squadron of the buzzing bullets we call hummingbirds were about their business, and watching them reminded me of something from my pilgrimage to Gethsemani…
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And All He Got Was This Gideon’s Bible
Last night just at dusk, my white-faced old dog began kicking up a fuss, quickly joined by my wife’s little alleged dog. They were at the glass patio door, and when we went to investigate, we assumed the possums had showed up early for supper. But no. There were three baby raccoons scampering up the Japanese maple just outside the door. It was raining pretty steadily, and they seemed content to rest up in the leafy bows of the treetop. The dogs were not as content to rest. I truly hope the ‘coons do not hang around. Despite my affection for living creatures, I have strong memories of the predations…