In the summer here the days start very early and they end late. I think it’s important to get in rhythm with the sun, and these days the sun is an early riser and is late to bed.
After a long hot day in the gardens, fields, woods and pastures, last night at about dusk I walked down to the pond, hoping to see the beaver that has been such a nuisance to us this year.
It was a typical summer evening, which means it was wonderful.
The sun had just set, painting the sky orange and purple. Directly where the sun had been an hour earlier, a thin cresent moon was shining.
The songs of whipporwills, bobwhites and mourning doves competed with the crunch of gravel beneath my feet. At the top of the hill that leads down to the pond, I startled some deer. The one on my right gave me a contemptous snort and dashed into the woods. The two on my left decided to show off their leaping skills. There is a point when a leaping deer seems to be suspended in the air. These two leaped simultaneously, giving me a double shot of that amazing sight. I wish I could have photographed it.
Nearer the pond the sound of bullfrogs joined the evening birds. Lightning bugs were starting to rise from the grass and a few bats darted around overhead.
Years ago we went on a family vacation to Belize. We stayed at a remote place in Placencia. It was very tranquil and beautiful there. I was leading a very stress-filled life in those days and the contrast with my everyday world was stark. I remember wishing that I could bottle the peacefulness and beauty of that place, and take it out whenever I was angry and stressed at work.
Stress-filled days for me are now the exception, not the norm. Now the norm is a beautiful serene walk to the pond after supper and a paseo with the family. Now I worry that I don’t sufficiently appreciate the beauty that envelopes me in my life here. That’s a very good thing to have to worry about.
I often feel the urge to tell about the things I see and do here. I feel a powerful desire to share with others, especially those who feel trapped and smothered as I once did. But when I try to write it out, it falls flat. I just can’t do justice to it. I can no more describe it in words than I could capture in a jar the feeling of sunrise on a beach in remote Belize.
But, for what it’s worth, here’s my humble attempt to at least suggest the sense of awe and amazement I got out of an evening stroll last night.
And by the way, the beaver did not make an appearance.