Saturday, February 25, 2012
It was one of those beautiful sky days.
Here I wave to you from the edge of the rubble of last summer's cornfield.
The grass is still lovely in her wispy, tattered winter dress.
As I dashed out the front door to grab some wood for the fire I looked out across the field and before I realized what I was looking at I saw white waving lines, all swirling and flowing together and descending down, seemingly in perfect harmony. It was like a huge angel feather had flittered to earth.
Then I saw through the dimming light of dusk that I was watching a flock of white-tailed deer. Startled, probably by my abrupt opening of the door, their tails up in alert, there was a group of them running and jumping the other way.