Although it’s been crazy hot these past few days, I find it comforting to walk in the late afternoon just before sunset (and before all those pesky mosquitos come out to feed!).
The cicadas are singing and the swallowtails are working the nectar from the thistle while goldfinch wrestle for its seed. Overhead I spot old vines of wild grape in the branches of a cherry struggling against the strangle of vines. There’s an old sugar maple that’s at least 200 years old along the path I take.
Birds flit and flutter amongst its limbs unaware of how much the world has changed since their sheltering tree was just a seedling. There’s a bunny nibbling up ahead on the trail, her eyes watchful for any sudden movements. The mockingbird is oblivious to any danger, lost in the rambling of borrowed notes as he sings out his heart from his perch on a post. Nature is busy in the quiet still of summer and I’m lost in the peace of its commotion.
