After a nice long rest to start the day, and
some food shopping to ensure a healthy stocked cupboard, I run in and grab the
Shepherd, just as the day is winding to a close.
Down we race to the river beyond us, to the
Eagle Sanctuary, to say good night to the day, as the sun blazes orange
and pink.
The plan is to drive a few miles to a Hadley side street, with the old grazing
greens between streets, to have a quiet stroll down the darkening sidewalks.
But we pass by the old Food Bank Farm, where the
mountain range and the sunset glow in stark relief, and we have to stop for a
moment there.
We are just about to the small side streets,
when I catch sight of the small road leading down to a little bridge, that is
swamped badly each and every time it rains, the riverside farmer fields lying
beyond, and pulled a quick left to go on down that way.
There is a farmer who's left his pickup by the
dirt road, and walked farther in, checking something, as we follow the small
right, and the expanse of farmland, with the row of trees fed by the river
along the edge of the sleeping fields, the sunset already in high gear
I pop my little boy out on his leash, open the
driver window, get in, and begin driving ever-so-slowly, watching in front of
me (noone) behind me (noone) and then keeping my eye on him, with a constant
stream of chatter, as I begin moving the car forward.
We do this now and again, when I am too depleted to walk him in the woods, and
he has had no friend romp for awhile. It's like very very carefully, NO
MISTAKES, exercising a horse in a ring.
He knows how to do it, and listens carefully, as we go.
I begin driving, telling him "Good boy!'
"Careful!" "Good boy! That's right!" as the car speeds a
bit, and he runs beside me,about 5 feet from the car, smiling, his fur swept
behind him. I slow now and then then he gets a bit ahead, calling to him
"Oh, Danto. Careful.
Stay. Stay." And he gets it, pulling back
along side the car, keeping pace. Eager to please. Stretching his big big
muscles, happy with the pleasure.
We get along the road, turn around, and do it
twice more, and as we carefully go, his smile grows bigger and bigger.
Finally, he seems happy and relaxed, and I stop to pop him back into the car,
telling him what a good job he did, as he smiles and pants.
Then, I get back out with my camera, looking
about.
You know how it is.
~
The light is shining or the sun rising or the
trees waving or leaves falling or sun setting, and you are just stunned. No
number of photos would give you the feeling you have truly absorbed the beauty.
The wonder of the moment.
There are sunsets and sunrises all over the
universe constantly. And each one happens once. Each moment; once. This very
moment? Once
I watch the colors shift and shift again, as a
flock of Geese begins their call, coming into view slowly, behind the bare
winter trees.
Gradually I see them, forming a v, then another, and I wonder what it's like to
be them, up in mild winter air, plentiful food, heading into a sunset that
looks more unreal every second, and yet, is truly brilliant. Brilliant.
The Geese fly into the sunset, and beyond, as
the air shifts, a small wind comes up, and the clouds billow beyond the trees
at the river's edge.
The river road darkens, as orange and pink blast
across the land. I am wondering what it looks like to Herons and Coyote and
field mice and moths.
As I
turn, and tuck into the car, greet the waiting dog with all his many happy
kisses, and we flick on the headlights, to make our way home.
