We stood in the grass arena, six of us and our horses. Mallory and Romi, Amy and Zeke, Suzi and Stuart, Betty and Sophie, Kate and Drake, and me and Willis. Cal Middleton was in the middle of us working with Romi as we all watched carefully, trying to take in every slightest move he made.
Winter is almost here. Daisy and I walk the neighborhood, taking in tiny twinkling lights, statues of deer and snowmen. In the darkness, I almost miss the doe walking past us.
She is like a black fox; everything from her confirmation to the way she trots instead of walks.
A river of life has passed under me. I feel like I’m standing on a bridge watching the past months rush by. Here I am looking toward the end of summer, trying to grasp all that has happened and take in and appreciate this new place.
Summer has unofficially begun. The cool mornings of April have warmed to 70º at 7 a.m. and the temperature gradually rises to the high 80s at mid-day, sometimes even 90º. Sunday’s rain cooled us for a while; the evening breezes sooth Daisy and I as we walk through the school yard in the evenings.
Around 8:30 p.m. on May 13, Owlet number 1 has stuffed his fluffy body in the box entrance as his siblings peck at his tail and pull on his feathers, wanting to be where he is, see what he sees.
The owlets are getting ready to fledge.
The owlets are now about 21 days old. They look like tiny ostriches when they stretch their necks and heads up and rotate their faces. Staring straight into the camera, they do not know they are being watched. The owl box is the only world they know, with its cedar shavings and scattered feathers.
I filled the bird feeder this morning and it is half full now. I should slip out and pour more seed in the back feeder. House finches, cardinals, bluejays, and a chickadee all feast on sunflower seeds. They must have nests nearby.
It is a noisy morning in the backyard this first day of April, this Easter Sunday - doves cooing, grackles whistling and bluejays squawking. Wednesday’s rain has left the ground soft and revived the grass. A grackle perches on the sunflower seed feeder; he shimmies down the cage and pokes his long black beak in between the grate squares, black feathers shiny in morning light.
