sights and smells

I saw a big wild turkey the other morning. And, later that day, a red fox zig-zagging away into the woods as I turned up the gravel drive, tires crunching.

The first blueberries have appeared, too, early this year.

Some other recent things I want to remember:

Fireflies rising from the wheat field at dusk. Hundreds of tiny lights floating up from the quiet expanse, its gold fading with the day.

Descending Acorn trail through the dark cool of the woods, splashes of sunshine brightening my way. The wavering chorus and insistant buzz of a thousand cicadas overhead, and then suddenly the heavy but precise chop of a deer's feet as it bounds up the steep ravine. I just see its flagging tail before it disappears into green.

The rich and heady smell of molasses date bread being kneaded.

Finding Heather alone in the strawberry field at the end of the picking day, her red peasant's blouse bent low over the green rows in the straw. Gleaning the day's sweet remains. At my approach she stands and looks my way, tall and slender and curious. The low sun catches in her hair and, recognizing me, she smiles.