Today has been a beautiful day. The temps are balmy, the humidity low. The sky a Pacific Ocean blue, dotted from horizon to horizon with fluffy cotton ball clouds. The breeze is pleasant as it stirs the leaves, and provides the incentive for hawks to glide in wide circles above me. The corn south of the house is almost all brown now. It stands dry and weary, with only a touch of faded green left in leaves that are curled and reaching... pleading for moisture. Likes hands folded in prayer, the leaves point skyward, seeking a rain that can only come too late. Some soybean fields have already lost their dark green lustre, as the plant leaves begin to yellow.Yes, harvest will be in full swing here... sooner rather than later.
All things summer are visible today. Insects of all kinds are busy, scurrying like frantic wintertime shoppers stocking up before an expected blizzard. Grass hoppers leap from stalk to stalk as I amble through what’s left of the garden. Along the ground, the beetles run to hide among the leaves, as my long shadow dances over them and the vegetation. The gnats hover over the garden in a packed cluster of excited aerobatic display. The sun catches upon the gnats wings, making the dizzy insects sparkle like fairy dust. All in all, I vote today as one of the nicest days this year. All of nature around me seems to display agreement. And it sounds like late summer also.
By day, the locusts are singing their high pitched love songs. The birds of summer offer up a chorus in parts, as each species does their best to perform optimally. It is as if they are making their voices heard in the vote on the grandness of this day. With chirps and whistles from the cardinals and finches, and the mournful bass tones of the doves, a feathery ensemble is entertaining me as I write. The Blue Jay comes in to join the chorus with his shrill call. I think it’s a good thing he is a such a snappy dresser, his beauty makes up for the lack of pleasantness in his singing.
As the sky pours color into the western horizon and the sun relinquishes its hold, crickets begin sawing out their evening song.The late afternoon sounds give way to evening voices. Casting their vote with the rest of us, the crickets agree that this has been a wonderful day. Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, in a staccato paced as if by metronome, they play a tune for all.Tree frogs are peeping now and a dove is offering one last lonesome call.
Now, the wrens gather together upon the shrouded branches of the Forsythia and begin to settle down for the night. The chickens line up single file and pass through the small door of the hen house. The flapping noises of their wings tell me that they are climbing to their roosts. Tomorrow will be a new day of productivity but, for now, it is time to rest.
I walk up to the back porch and sit in my rocker.I catch the last glimpse of sun, as twilight gently softens upon the Chicken Ranch. I drink deep from my glass of sweet tea, then hold out the glass in a salute to the day. Late summer days and evenings are a special treat anyway but, after the months of oppressive heat and drought, this cool close of the day is especially pleasing.
I could go in the house and settle down myself for the evening. But I’m reluctant to end this glorious day. So,I think I’ll sit here a bit longer.
After all, I still haven’t heard from our resident owl... and I think every vote should count.
I could go in the house and settle down myself for the evening. But I’m reluctant to end this glorious day. So,I think I’ll sit here a bit longer.
After all, I still haven’t heard from our resident owl... and I think every vote should count.
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