The sun has finally burned away the chills of a cold winter, and gilded pine needles whisper rumors of summer to poplar leaves above me. Last night the whippoorwill sang so hard and fast I feared he would burst in a feathery explosion of wildly mad, lust-driven song.
I hope it was enough for the object of his affection. This morning Pee Wee sounds annoyed with his calling of the daylight. My hummingbirds' buzzing eclipses the many bumblebees boring into the railings of the cabin, and far below my mountain top are the faint echoes of traffic.
Nearly every morning the same two deer graze on shrubbery nearby. Yesterday the little red doe tiptoed down my driveway as though she were stopping by for a cup of tea. This illusion was shattered though as my ever vigilant guardian, Anubis, burst from his feigned sleep and bounded after her baying like a hound from hell.
Ah well. He's only protecting me after all, and she must seem strange to him with her big eyes and flicking ears. Stranger still for him, and seemingly most distressing, are the black vultures who sit on our roof. He barks at them and snarls like he's gone mad and when they fly he runs and tries to chase them. Silly puppy; you have no wings. They make me very glad I have a well and not a cistern which would collect rainwater from the roof.
I love the solitude of my little cabin on top of this mountain.
Today, though, I go forth and visit The Cousins, my only two cousins (out of over a dozen) with whom I have a relationship. Ah well. Quality over quantity, yes? I see my mother, sisters and nieces and nephew quite often, and love it. I must confess, though, I am most at ease in the company of myself, my hound, and the forest.
I find myself sensitive these days more to the space between words and what is not said rather than said. I find my empathy is on overload right now, and the coolness of the tree shade, song of the Robin, and cawing of the ever present crows and ravens near my home calms me.
I find solace in Nature when people have fun at my expense. When old patterns are repeated and my grown eyes see what my childhood eyes did not. When bullies love you as fiercely as they loathe you and tell you to lighten up as they stomp you with cruel words. When jokes are at your expense and mean spirited and your stories are stolen, twisted and spread open before strange eyes, then my friends it's time to return to my mountain top. I find solace in the cries of the whippoorwill, in the flick of the deers ears, the crimson flash of cardinals, and whispers of treetops.
I hope this weekend finds you all safe and secure this weekend and with people whom value you as greatly as you value them.