Friday, March 14, 2025. 17*
Even without the curtains drawn, it was dark. I remembered the solar eclipse of the moon was to happen overnight, a blood moon. Earlier there were clouds and although the moon was seen through the trees she was veiled. I did not get up to watch a black sky or find my watch to see the time.
Eager to be outside the three want to help put on my boots; lick my face, my fingers as I tie a lace. Ruger encourages: “Come on! Come on!”
Sitting, impatiently, tails scraping the floor they know if one stands, I’ll not open the door. “Easy” does not slow their pace. That patch of ground Luna revealed Thursday has multiplied. Not large enough for the three to run, to play. Zsolt digs in a pile of snow Chris pushed off the roof, snow that must be shoveled if it’s to melt before June. Zsolt digs as if to escape under the fence but he’s digging in snow chasing Chris's scent.
Not a bird sings, the rooster speaks not a word although I heard him crowing a few days ago. Like a ballerina in a music box, the pond, the burbling spring can't dance until someone lifts the icy latch. No breeze rings the wind chimes. Above the silence, Soleil shines.
Its rising is from one end of the heavens,
And its circuit to the other end of them;
And there is nothing hidden from its heat.
Psalm 19:6 (NASB)
Photo: LJ Austin
