Friday, August 31, 2012
A couple of weeks ago I noted the subtle changes that herald a new season. This morning subtlety was replaced by a downright chill and I needed longs sleeves and jeans on my early morning bike ride. I do not normally bring my camera along. The basket is too jouncy and I have no neck strap for my little point and shoot. Word, rather than snap, shots will have to do for yesterday's visuals of the deer - a doe, a yearling, and this year's fawn - that bounded from the edge of the woods in front of me, their great, brown, curious eyes assessing me for danger, their noses twitching, their legs, so slender for such strength, sending them soaring across the small ditch into the sheltering trees on the other side of the road.
Today it was the mist ghosts walking on the surface of the pond that caught my attention. Far along the further shore a small red boat floated serenely in their midst, its occupant caught in the magic of the morning, his paddles dripping liquid sunlight. I couldn't feel the air moving but the ghosts felt it. They stirred and swirled and eddied before lifting up from their watery bed to become part of the infinite blue.
I have outdoor chores to do before the sun heats up the day and some indoor tasks for when it does. My bike leans on its kickstand until this evening when my after dinner ride will take me along the same back roads, saying goodnight to the day that started so wonderfully.