Self-Immersed

on a rainy day in James Patterson's Alex Cross, Winston Churchill's lifetime and the fruit salad that is our current political climate.

I take moments to watch the fireflies and listen to the night.  No matter how crazy the world gets Mother Nature still soothes my soul.

Dusk...

As Ki and I stepped out for potty business, the deer were drinking from the spring.  I saw a few but this was the best shot.  We know why our winter garden hasn't fared so well.
The deer spied us and white-flagged as they left.  I heard the twang of wire as they tipped the fence leaving.

Sunday night the moon had lighted the valley but tonight we were wrapped in tight fog.  You could almost hear it moving.  I half expected to see the ship-wrecked sailors march through our valley as they did in the movie "Fog". 

Ki attended to business as I stood lightly dressed, feeling the fog actually touch me.  A coyote called from the new pond and waited for an answer.  Was it a call to mate or to hunt?   The beauty nor the music was not lessened by my lack of understanding.

I hear cattle lowing from the next farm, and the calls of night birds were sprinkled here and there.  In the distance, a owl calls to the night.

The night was dressed heavily in fog.  No stars nor moon to see but the sounds were mysterious and almost hypnotizing in this valley we call At The Farm.

I Tried To Shoot The Moon...

as the geese, flying south, called to me in the early night.  The amazing V formation as they crossed the moon had me wishing I could capture the beauty and the sound of their flight. Only in my mind, did I capture it, tucking the memory away to bring out, like a good book, and revisit the wonder of it.

The coyotes were active last night and their voices echoed through the leafless trees as they pursued their night's meal. I heard them run along the cedar glade where deer were grazing earlier.  As I called my husband to hear their song, they grew silent.  I continued to listen, in the cold night, and imagined their path.  As they picked up their prey trail again, they sang to the night, crossing the creek and following the old road up the hill...and then silence.  The silence left me wondering, were they successful in their hunt or did they search for another main course.

While listening, I was warm and lost in the moment but as the night sounds left, the cold crept in.  I returned to the warmth and shut the door on the night.