So it's after 4:00 AM, and as is becoming the norm, I'm just finished with final chores. Yes, final, as in yesterday's. I'm no early bird, but I've lately come to realize that I may as well say I start my day at 3 or 4 and then take a nap - that's what it amounts to, really - before I start my next round. I made a nice big pot of fresh-cooked chicken that delighted my furred friends; their eyes still hold the glow of the kill-frenzy that real meat evokes. Soon they'll be curled up, twitching and whining as they imagine they chased, caught, and killed the chicken that imbues their dreams.
I was told tonight would hold a meteor shower. I gave the sky a good perusal, but saw none; my neck won't tolerate much craning these days. But any excuse to linger was welcome. October has an indescribable element of shadow to it; bright, brisk days that prod my horse to behave unpredictably on rides, a teasing wind that keys the dogs to the edge of insanity at the merest whiff of deer, evenings alive with incipient...something. I'm drawn out, out to the woods, the fields, my legs never seeming to cover enough ground to satisfy that sense of needing to seek out, gather in, roam...I feel it, the horses and dogs feel it. What is the "it" that we feel? Who is the "it" who wonders what "it" is?
Changes of season do spark contemplation, especially moving into the dark season of the year. We couldn't see the meteors due to overcast, but they are pretty when you can see them.
ReplyDeleteWe had clear skies, it was actually perfect conditions. Normally my walking buddy, Nancy, and I would have scheduled a night walk to coincide with the predicted peak event, but she's been galavanting around the world these past few months. So, without her promptings I've gotten soft and lazy and confine my walking to the hours before midnight ;-)
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