It was a mysterious, mist-filled morning at Steinke Basin.
I overheard the crows having their morning conversation. Once I reached the woods, the blue jays announced my presence to the creatures of the forest.
Some purple and white asters still bloomed, and I spied the flowers of a last bottle gentian.
I walked right through the middle of a flock of LBJ’s. I heard the sound of their wings as they took flight. It happened so suddenly, I was unable to identify the birds. A birding friend calls them LBJ’s for “little brown jobs,” his term for a small brown bird that flies away too soon for accurate identification.
The only sign of wildlife was a single bunny which skedaddled quickly. When you’re the peanut butter and jelly sandwich of the animal world, your flight response is always engaged.
Being in nature soothed my heavy heart, fresh from a recent loss. The falling leaves and decaying plants were reminders that to everything there is a season.
This work is real, and it matters.
October 9, 2021