Tuesday, June 30, 2026, 46.3* F, 86% RH, 0631
Sun, a white-hot glow dispersed by leaves. Air still. Sky determining if hazy white will transition to summer blue. Only six birds: Hermit Thrush, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Brown Creeper, Blue-headed Vireo, Common Yellowthroat, Red-eyed Vireo. The stream receding has attained that long-steeped hue of black tea. Clover is releasing her purple. Can we see it move through space and settle elsewhere?
Yesterday, a deer across the stream munching as the three rambled down the ramp not seeing, not even looking. I folded a plastic tarp. It was not a quiet folding. The deer continued to browse tall grass. Zayne rolled in warm dirt where nothing grows. Ruger sheltered from sun under the deck. Zsolt, ears raised (his quizzical face) tracked a bug. The deer and I locked eyes for quiet moments until she moved, not in a hurry, stepping over downed trees, rippling dark waters, reaching the other shore, disappearing through trees perhaps seeking the purple of clover. After dark, fireflies beamed their staccato light.
The beginning, the ending of days, do you know them?
Photo: LJ Austin
