It happens quite often this time of year.
My frustration that the few beautiful days rarely coincide with my free time to enjoy them. Too often, I gaze out from behind glass--hoping there'll be daylight left to explore on my return from work that evening.
Disappointed, that the many days of damp gray will probably align themselves perfectly with the weekend.
But this morning was mine.
The periwinkle on the front bank has come forth from nowhere--
daintily curled blossoms unfurling in the bright morning sun.
What I had intended as a quick walk past the pond, soon became ant-watching.
Boulder after boulder placed atop the mound--they must've begun with the sun to have accomplished so much here--and, I'm sure, will continue their tireless efforts until it sets.
In the woods, as I approached Wood Pool, a large form flew from the trees--my owl. Her stubby profile so recognizable to me now--I watch until I can see her no more. Her refuge I'll not disturb. A family of owlets would like these deep dark woods. Their presence here makes these woods special.
Yesterday, she flew from the same perch.
And I wonder if she watches each night, as I count salamanders here in the dark.
I reluctantly turned to start back to the house--my pretty morning spent, the sunshine warm on my face and bare arms.
He has returned--the Tree Swallow who finds our bluebird houses the perfect place to raise a family.
And I recall the summer evenings watching them--coursing and dipping over this field.
Soon--very soon--there will be many days to enjoy.
13.1: the saga
8 hours ago