I have managed to make it home for exactly two days, which makes a total of four since April 16th. To say I’ve missed it does no justice. As I sit here on the porch, I hear so many of the sounds that make my baseline consciousness relax: the shuffling of the horses; the crickets in the grass; the pop and tick of the electric fence counting off two-second intervals; the deep peaceful breathing of my dog, Coco, as she naps away on the porch next to me. I am her lookout. We take turns watching for danger.
The sound of my frequent hummingbird friend, The Kid, saws his way into my peripheral vision on the left. I am so pleased to see him. It’s been a good 10 months since he was last here. Despite the appearance of The Kid, there are many sights and sounds missing: the buzz of the constant bees and paper wasps; the tickling sensation of the tachinid flies on my hands searching for moisture; the fat sound of heat. It’s just not hot yet, but that’s O.K. Though, it does seem a little strange to see the clouds of dandelion fluff cartwheel by without a hot breeze to back them up.The stealth, silent, biting insects are out though – black flies, mosquitos, and no-see-ums. I feel like a cactus with no spines itching away.
I’m sad when I think about how long I will be away again, so I imagine instead what I will see on my return. I’m hoping I won’t miss the copper skippers shimmering by the thousands around mud puddles, or the poppies and the clematis in full bloom. I hope I’m back to stake the delphinium in time. They are already about three feet high. The apples and pears will be forming and baby birds will be practicing their first flights. The crickets and the frogs will be in concert at night and the fireflies will light the stage. And if I’m lucky? Perhaps a ball of gas known as the “will-o-the-wisp” and “fox-fire” will bounce along the back field until it settles into a southern border tree to burn out and die. I’ve seen it twice now and I don’t know if there is any other natural phenomenon, save the northern lights, that is so softly lovely.
Had to google ”fox fires” because interestingly we call aurora borealis fox fires (”revontulet”) in Finland.
Nature 💚
I LOVE your descriptions of the Lung, and it resonates. Moving from Chicago to Santa Fe, my life has slowed down in new ways, the last five years. I spent yesterday watching brown grasshoppers and black crickets dodge the fire ants, listened to the piñon jays and tit mouses calling to their partners and nests. I love just watching my dog look for the baby snakes or whiptail lizards — occasionally a cute bunny — (luckily he’s slow so never catches ANY of them, just runs around bouncing, trying), listening to the sounds, feeling my skin get taut in the sun.