Wednesday, July 9, 2025, 60.6* 0603
I wasn’t sure she would emerge from the tall grasses as I prepared pizza last night glancing out the window. At first, all I could see was her brown back. She stood for the longest time looking like a statue looking downstream at something beyond my view. She peered towards the house to see if the three would disturb her peace, to see if Zayne would come flying over the fence. No sign of a fawn. It could’ve been there in the tall grasses beside her.
This morning stale, odiferous air greeted--like walking past an open dumpster. No wind blew. Not obscuring the view, fog lingered fading in treetops. Birds, three which I haven’t heard for days sang – Black-throated Green Warbler, Common Yellowthroat, Wood Thrush. When we lived in Denver a lifetime ago with our young daughter, we attributed mornings like this, especially the odor, to temperature inversions… cool trapped under warm air. We didn’t linger. We trooped inside for biscuits and bed, coffee and desk.
To vagaries of nature we can only react.
Photo: LJ Austin
