May 27, 2024

Going Places

The bright light on my wife’s alarm clock cut the night short. Half asleep, my brain couldn’t process if the birds chirping from the clock’s speaker were real or not. The alarm sounded just like home to me. Taking advantage of our Monday off, we stayed in bed a little longer, snuggling. Today, there were no hurries.

Even though the forecast called for clear skies, it rained last night. The patio furniture got soaked, so we propped up the pillows on their side to help them dry. After feeding the dogs, my wife and I sat down on the couch with our customary cup of coffee. The Nespresso machine still amazed us. I enjoyed a second cup of coffee with biscuits for breakfast.

We watched out the window that faced the pasture. There, for the first time with our own eyes, we saw the doe and her fawn that had appeared on the trail cameras. The fawn was tiny but looked healthy and spry. 

The two deer grazed as they made their way across the pasture toward the trees. Then, they moved north toward our house, just outside the tree line in plain sight. We watched in delight as the small fawn suddenly started sprinting around the freshly mowed pasture. A few days ago, the fawn’s legs shook, trying to hold it up while standing. Now, the fawn, the size of a medium-sized dog, was running at greyhound speeds. 

I marveled at nature’s wisdom in allowing the fawn to enjoy running. Nature made most life preserving behaviors pleasurable. One day, this fawn would grow up and might have to evade a coyote or hunter. But the truth was obvious. The baby deer ran because it felt good. It was the deer’s nature. If only humans were just as comfortable and satisfied being who we were.

On one pass, the fawn sprinted a hundred yards into the pasture and then looped around at full speed, jumping the low trees and vegetation on the tree line in a single bound. This little guy was going places.

The morning weather was cloudy and around 8 AM, it rained. I was happy I mowed the pasture when I did. My wife lit up with an idea. Since it was raining lightly, it was an excellent opportunity to fertilize and seed the backyard. We got busy with some impromptu yard work, still sore from yesterday’s work on the trails. Within forty minutes, we had put weed killer, fertilizer, and grass seeds in the backyard. The light rain kept us relatively cool and helped dissolve the materials into the ground. 

While working in the backyard, I was on the east side of our house while my wife was on the west. From the pine grove, I saw a deer shoot out in a full gallop, leaping over the fence that enclosed our pasture. It kept running, and I told my wife, so she could see the animal once it arrived on her side of the house. Then another deer came out of the grove, and another. One by one, several large deer ran out of the pines, cleared the fence, and ran through the pasture and into the opposite tree line.

Even though the sky was dark and a light drizzle fell down on us while we worked, the high humidity made us feel hot. We went inside to get some water and cool off. After, my wife and I worked on her resume. She wanted to polish it up, so we spent a good hour and a half adjusting it to our liking. My wife, who loathed talking about herself, was happy to get this off her task list.

For lunch, my wife made an amazing buffalo chicken sandwich and salad that we enjoyed. After we ate, I took a brief nap on the couch. Well, half of it anyway. Bodhi, an enormous dog, took up most of the space, so I lied down with my legs dangling over the couch’s arm. 

After a good nap, I woke up and had a cup of coffee. Then I locked myself in my office and wrote for two and a half hours straight. The whole time I was writing, deer passed outside my window in the pasture. For the past couple of months, the deer had all but disappeared. After the rut, their activity slowed, and I sometimes wondered if they had left the property. Today, there were plenty of deer roaming the woods. I saw at least four different herds moving throughout the day.

After my writing session, my wife and I took a walk together into the forest. The woods were dark with the dim rainy skies and everything was wet. The trails’ darkened soil looked clean. I was happy with all the work we did to clear them. The rain did a great job of dissolving the poison we laid down in the soil. 

When we arrived near the creek, my wife froze and pointed west. In the marsh by the water, a lone doe stood still, staring at us. We admired her for a few seconds, before my wife told me she wanted to backtrack, so we didn’t disturb the deer. This area was a prime location for bedding down a fawn, and we didn’t want to distress the animals. Last year, I saw a doe and her fawn bedded down in this same place.

As we walked back toward the house, we saw several swirls made in a thick layer of dead pine needles. The local squirrels made these small works of art while hiding or digging up food. Along the trail, I notice fungi growing everywhere. Bright purple mold grew on parts of the pathway and I noticed at least six different species of mushrooms. The largest was about ten inches high, while the cap of the smallest was tiny enough to fit on my smallest fingernail.

When we returned home, we went outside and sat on the deck. The sun popped up in full force, so we opened the umbrella to provide shade for our outdoor table. There, we talked while listening to music, as the temperature fell and the sun dropped toward the horizon.

After an hour, we moved back inside the house where my wife prepared a wonderful meal made from rigatoni and Italian sausage, all smothered in a homemade pesto sauce. On the side, we ate garlic bread, using it to sop up any leftover sauce on the plate. My wife was an excellent cook.

After my wife showered, we sat outside as dusk transformed into nighttime. There was a herd of deer in the pasture, feeding, as fireflies flashed all around them. It was another reminder of how special this place was. When I left to shower, my wife stayed outside, relaxing under the stars shining above and fireflies twinkling below, soaking in the last moments of a long and perfect weekend.