How to describe a day like yesterday, and do it without appearing maudlin, ungrateful, shallow or just plain silly?The sky was clear blue and held not a single cloud. The woodland was such a dazzling green that it hurt one's eyes to look at it, and clearings here and there were filled with wild yellow orchids in full and fragrant bloom. A gentle wind made the trees dance in their places, and there was a lovely flickering light in the forest.
On such days, I feel a deep contentment, but a vague restlessness too, a nebulous longing or yearning for something (I know not what it is) which is impossible to express in words - as though something mysterious, transcendent and liminal is waiting just over the brow of the next hill and beckoning, calling out to me in a plangent voice: to do something, to come away now and know once and for all what matters, to these old eyes to see into the heart and essence of things.
After few hours in the company of the orchids, I wandered back to the pond and just sat there watching the reeds move in the wind, the ripples and the sunlight moving across the water. A great black rat snake (an endangered species here) went swimming by me, unfolding itself toward the far shoreline in sinuous flowing curves which were a pleasure to watch. A pair of Canada geese floated majestically on the pond, grooming themselves languidly and basking in the green light; grosbeaks and tanagers sang opera in the overstory.
What cracked my heart wide open yesterday was the little vixen who came down to the water to visit and stayed for a while, first curling up by the canoe and then near my chair, and taking the food offered to her ever so gently.
High summer is coming in, and Morag is losing her winter fur. Her coat is patchy, tattered and festooned with bits of leaves, grass and earth. She is malnourished and emaciated, her ribs showing clearly through her fur, but she is raising a family of bumptious kits in a den nearby, and she feeds her children before she eats herself. She goes hungry most of the time, but she is quiet, thoughtful and ever mindful of her tasks, and in spite of her circumstances, she always seems happy. She was just brimming with happiness as she stood near me on the shore yesterday. A wise teacher, my little fox, but I have a very long way to go. . .
8 comments:
Oh, Morag is just precious! Your day sounds lovely, I feel as if I were right there with you.
Good morning kerrdelune
I really understand your malaise. I have the same feeling on sunny, breezy, perfect days. I actually feel more peaceful on gloomy or rainy days. You articulated the feeling so well. Thank you for that.
Your friendship with Morag is beautiful. I wish I had a handful of mice to offer to her.
Lovely vixen, and beautiful thoughts on your day... thank thee.
what a lovely day and such lovely company!
Dawn
What a marvellous picture of Morag. To see how much of herself she is giving to her young is humbling. To see the trust she gives you is also an inspiration.
I'm further north, and after ice and snow on Saturday, and working on Sunday, Monday proved to be the perfect holiday day for a lovely long walk in the the boreal forest. As it is still too cold for the black flies, it was really a treat. So I share my walk with yours.
I think your thoughts are on target, but I seem to be more comfortable when I'm gloomy than when I'm happy. I wish I could have a fox come that close to me.
The kind of day that is so perfect it almost doesn't work in words. It sounds like a fairy tale - and then I scroll down to the photo of Morag and she makes it very real with her cheerful motherly giving of herself. "Wake up! This is real life!" This morning I woke at 4:00 a.m. as our cats chased a mouse right over my chest and under a cabinet. I would have thought that a dream, like your post seemed, if I hadn't seen it. The cats have had little practice, being indoor people; I'll bet Morag wouldn't have lost that mouse. She looks young but experienced.
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