10.15.14 Why, even from the view of the small daring plane, playing in the updrafts, the beauty would bring you pause .

The night ends too soon, with 10 workers chain sawing their way massive oak, which fell into the conservation field days ago. 
It's six am, but I hoped to sleep in, nothing on the day, but we here are, all of us awake. 

Outside, as the pup and I wander towards the road, high on the mountain range foothill, the cars are backed up on either side, As a roll of police cars and construction equipment monopolizes one side of the road, trying somehow to move the final bottom portion of the grand grand old tree.
And then there's nothing for it, but to walk back along the early glistening field, and stand, watching someone with a small plane, hurtling themselves to and fro, twisting and playing in the wind as if they were a bird. We stand, and watch them up in the sky.

Of course, every second of flying a plane does , like my own driving, results in pollution spewed far and wide. The most destructive narcissists, humans. 

And so we all get into the car and drive him , thinking fondly of the bed we wish we were enclosed within. 

As our day brings a sky dark with elegant, magnificent cloud forms. As the wind and hastening October once again bring out all colors and all things with such beauty. 

As we pass by a flock of wild turkeys, happily gorging themselves upon the newly shorn farmer fields. 

And then drive, up, up, up the hill along the mountain range.
And nestle ourselves back in to home.

Home, with the birds about my gardens, enjoying now the dried seed heads.
As the resplendent Sassafras that my beloved threatens to cut down annually turns a burnished orange and red. 

Punctuating the landscape across forest and field and broad broad sky.
Why, even from the view of the small ebullient plane, playing in the updrafts, the beauty would bring you pause .