18 May 2009

Fog is moderately heavy today over the ponds. It creeps back and forth between ridges, and obscures my view from time to time. This makes the sunrise magical. 

Somewhere in almost every direction is a bird telling me to drink my tea. And a short distance behind me a tom reminds us all that it is spring.

Some mornings are like this; I never see anything. But the sounds and sights are enough to calm even the most despairing of souls. A steady dose once a day of four to five hours will turn anyone into a Zen master. My name is Tracy, and I am addicted to nature. 

The sun is hotter than usual, and not a cloud in the sky. I do try to sit in the shade to hide myself better, but little rays always poke through and find me now and again. The sun burns hotter, and the fog slowly begins to rise up, up, up, almost to the top of the tree line before it finally disappears. Everything is damp.

I need two of some mornings. Today is one of them. Off in the distance I can barely make out the sound of an old water pump. And today would be a good sound day because for some reason the city is quiet. Maybe it's the dense air, or the way the wind is blowing--I don't know but these are my favorite days. Once again, the water pump. But as some of you know, it's not a water pump at all, but the mating call of the American bittern. He pauses for a few minutes between sets. And after about an hour, he moves about 1/4 mile closer and I can clearly hear his song.