Eight AM, the fog lies heavy on the land as I walk with my dogs along the woods’ edge. The air is sweet with the perfume of meadows at summer’s end. The dew hangs in the grass and coats the spiderwebs with glistening drops.
We take our time to walk the path in contemplation. This morning when the sun seems unable to lift the fog, a quiet has settled over the land. The dogs’ exuberance is subdued as if they too are conscious of the approaching winter.
The solitary humming bird, sitting at the feeder, forebodes an early coming of the cold. This year the birds left at the traditional time, in solidarity with the Summer that has been almost normal for the first time in many years.
The week has been a good one at Sontheim. As you all know, the Berner Emma has a new home and much to everyone’s delight she has already settled in. This transition went unexpectedly fast and I am convinced that she was meant to join up with Greg who loves her to distraction. When they arrived on Friday morning to spend the day, Emma was leading the way into the house with a big smile. Her tail was up high and wagging up a storm as her doting dad carried her supplies into the house. All morning long she followed at his heals and was afraid of nothing, not even the sound of the vacuum cleaner that usually freaks out my girls.
At the conclusion of this good week, let me recite a poem that comes to mind today:
You tides with ceaseless swell! you power that does this work!
You unseen force, centripetal, centrifugal, through space’s spread,
Rapport of sun, moon, earth, and all the constellations,
What are the messages by you from distant stars to us? what Sirius’? what Capella’s?
What central heart — and you the pulse — vivifies all? what boundless aggregate of all?
What subtle indirection and significance in you? what clue to all in you? what fluid, vast identity,
Holding the universe with all parts as one — as sailing in a ship?
Walt Whitman, 1892