Friday, April 10, 2026, 33* F, 86% RH, 0539
0520 there’s enough light to see shapes of trees, slice of moon, eastern sky displaying her kaleidoscope pre-sunrise. I take pictures of clouds, of treetops. Zayne runs to the fence to see if the tractor, the chipper, Chris are still there. None of them barked while he worked last evening. Ruger stands beside me, changes his mind, returns to the fenced-in-land. Zayne barks as something steps on a branch in the dark; a solar light shining toward the deck impossible to focus past.
Frost heavy enough to be white atop the black fire pit cover, to lie in the grass like snow, to make opaque car windows. 0550 I clearly see the landscape, the rocks, the trees, the patches of raked out chips. I hear a Song Sparrow in the distance. The rooster talks.
These are the days of more light.
Photo: LJ Austin
