Coffee’s on here, and there is a cool ghostly mist spreading across the meadow this morning. Daisy, my neighbor’s dog, slept restlessly as porch guard most of the night, woofling at mostly imagined spirits who were drifting in and out of her dreams I think. I got up several times to check the perimeter with my trusty Ryobi 18 volt spot beam, sweeping it’s laser sword-like beam back and forth without capturing any night creatures in its path. The meadow out from the porch is soaking wet this morning with fall dew, nurturing those small (late, late, late) seedlings poking up for one last look at summer’s passing. I haven’t heard the ducks and geese passing yet this year, but am sure I will soon. The ranch is in the international big bird flight path to the south winter resorts. All the hummingbirds have gone now, leaving a vacuum felt by us, their spring and summer hosts. It’s such great fun watching their buzzing, well, humming I suppose, round and round the feeders, making their dining a competition. We’ll miss them until next spring.
Leo seems to have recovered from a bad summer’s cold, if you can call what cats get such a thing. Mr. Black is out in the fields, with his black fur coat soaking wet, stalking a morning breakfast prize. Well, it’s just nature’s way, but it does seem cruel in a way, doesn’t it? I don’t think I’d like to be in his path on his early morning stalk. Leo, snoozing again at my feet, is “Boss Cat” and acts the part, sleeps when and where he wishes. He showed up a few years back, the same night a close friend of mine was killed in a car wreck. I always said he was sent by her to fill the empty space we all felt by her passing. Mr. Black, the interloper (according to Leo) came to the door a short time ago, cold and starving. He wasn’t turned away either and after a short battle or two with Leo for top of the pecking order has settled in with us as first mate (2nd only to Captain Leo, of course). Life continues and leaves it’s markers, and sometimes it’s as stand-ins for people and places admired and remembered.
