Wednesday, May 7, 2025, 49.4* Foggy
An hour into Wednesday, it is darker than when I stood on the deck listening at five. Something stepped through the woods out of my field of vision, breaking fallen branches, disturbing leaves. Here, in this wild place it is impossible to walk on silent feet through the woods unless of course you don’t touch the ground. Even these conversing with morning could not mask the clumsy sound – Ovenbird, Chestnut-Sided Warbler, Cooper’s Hawk, Common Yellowthroat, Eastern Phoebe, Yellow Warbler, Nashville Warbler.
I dump rain from my chair, from concave surfaces, places dogs drink places mosquitoes will congregate if left to warm when the sun returns, mixing bowls of nature’s seasonal brew. My coffee sends up steam, an illusion of too warm to drink; but it’s already past the delicious temperature on its way to the time for reheating. It’s not referred to as “old”, coffee that is, coffee that has passed the perfect enjoyable temperature. Perfect is different for everyone and if we have turned our attention to something else, we miss it.
“And this is my prayer:
that your love may abound more and more
in knowledge and depth of insight.”
Philippians 1:9 NIV
Photo: LJ Austin
