1.1.19 Oasis

Last night we went down to the oasis, in the midst of the cultivated fields.
It’s my experience that we encounter not one tick when the fields are regularly cultivated. 

The night was coming on, but slowly, for Solstice has moved on, and we with our sun are warmer, brighter.

The fields were hardly muddy anymore, with such warm days again, the very last of ice beginning their melt.

Dante was busily engaged far up round the corner, following his nose, and I suspected and realized the coyote probably had a kill.

Far overheard the dark cloudy skies held a light blue, a hint of pink, of salmon. As I tromped about happily, admiring limbs, beautiful long legged trunks, stretching to the sky. 

Til I whistled for the boyo, and he came, dancing and a prancing, waded in to the waters, had a drink and a bit of a soak. 

And so we turned and slowly made our way back, across the softening fields. 

Through the layer of leaves, fallen down upon the ground.

Slowly composting their way back to earth once again.