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The Last Monday of Summer
The light was eerie this morning, filtered through a mist that seemed lighter yet more substantial than usual. As Jinx and I patrolled the high ridges and scanned for deer, it was as silent as a shepherd’s crook. The moon was hidden by clouds, but I could sense its power and presence behind the vapor veil, and was reminded that the full moon will be upon us tonight. A corridor of high tulip poplars lines our driveway, and a hoot owl was perched somewhere in them this morning in the darkness. He called his mournful Morse code into the new morning — whoo, whoo, whoo-whooooooo — and I thought of…
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Days and Days
The year has rolled back to the time when spider webs are more prominent in the mornings, especially with the dew hanging on the sturdy strands. This morning I saw one suspended beneath the maple in the back yard, the sun just starting to glance off the night’s architectural marvel. So much work. To be undone in so short a time. Such is the way of this world full of beautiful tragedy and melancholy art and small, fragile creatures with their arduous work and deceptive power. Speaking of the small creatures of the earth, Mrs. Orr told me something delightful last night. “Do you know what a group of ladybugs…