Vegan owls just don't have the protein intake for the gray-matter necessary to live up to their Wise Old honorifics. Besides - hare today, gone tomorrow.
Another wonderful bucolic piece - I can just hear the lawn mowers and sprinklers in the background.
The calendar says that Summer ends on 9/21, the Autumnal Equinox, the day
light and day call it a split at twelve hours each. The weathermen say 9/1, and
the change in the weather, at least here in Southeastern Virginia, tends to concur
with this assessment. Of coure we all know in our hearts Summer will always
end the day after Labor Day, and this year sadly there was no Ed McMahon alongside Jerry Lewis to emcee my Telethon viewing marathon.
These are the sweetest days of the year here, a glorious combination of
Summer temperatures combined with low Autumn humidity, three in-between
transitional weeks that defy a label and seem to defy time, as each day moves
slower than the last, a pleasant rarity as one grows older. I like to increase
the length of my nature walks and really soak in the birds and plants and flowers
and clouds and sky and grass. The Bermuda lawns, golf course grass, are even
better now than the hot summer months they were invented for, the Fescue
lawns are experiencing a rebirth after the wilting and pounding they took in the heat and humidity. The clouds seem whiter and fluffier and climb vertically to the heavens, and the few dark clouds there are provide a stunning contrast.
The birds seem to be eating more, perhaps storing up for their long winter's
voyage to Mexico and Central America and other parts unknown. The sky seems
a different shade of blue amidst less water vapor and a new sun angle, a color
right from our old 64-crayon box that we colored so many skies of our own.
Mums are being planted everywhere to replace Petunias, and the abundant
Crape Myrtles, the 100-day tree, are beginning to call it a year, though some that started late may make it into November. Roses are blooming a second round, as if to say they want one more chance at glory before winter's wrath
sends them into a dormant hibernation of hiding.
I saw a lizard behind my porch post, a huge bullfrog down at the pond near the Poquoson River, and a turtle sunbathing on a log as eight geese strolled in front of me on my walk, speeding up as if I was trying to outrun them. Our
barn owl is still here, as it has been since June (see my blog), although the small
owl it raised has since flown away. Did you know that many birds remain within one mile of where they were raised their entire lives? So the parting is not as
sad as it seems, I'll bet they come home to do laundry and borrow money. The
owl killed a large bunny near the front door that had been eating clover daily a few weeks ago, a reminder of how vicious and cruel nature can be as well, I won't go into detail what an owl's
beak and claws can do. Burying the bunny only reminded me of the day my dad died of a brain tumor, or later when my dog was killed by a neighbor's dog who breathed fire down my neck as I tried to rescue him. I never thought it seemed very fair, the bunny was just
minding his own business, why is nature designed like this? Life is simply not fair.
Every September First I have a silly ritual, I go out into my backyard upon
awakening, it is always perfect weather, and I sing "September Morn" by Neil
Diamond. The neighbors would think I was odd, but they know I'm a chess
player, and I'm proud to say we see the world a little bit differently than
everybody else.