Love of Light

Up too early, waiting for daybreak to push back the tide of worry. For a morning person all things are possible once the sun comes up.


A faint light rises, the last nice day of the year or so I hear, with gossamer fogs and fluffy jet trails and cows hurrying across the horizon, just awakened and coming down to eat. Stars are still out, big glowing globes sprinkled here and there. Night to the west, just past the edge of the heifer barn and cow yard.

The tiny silver moon sliver is devoured by a tatter of dark grey cloud, then spit out again a little later. That razor edge of shining crescent is too sharp to swallow I guess.

I want to stay out in the half-light and watch the sun come up, but the silly kitties are following me places that are not safe from coyotes and foxes and such left-over creatures of the night. 

We put them in the chicken house last night as they have figured out how to escape the milk house and prowl the darkness. Coyotes are coming right through the yard these days stirring up the dogs with their wild, dark hunt. We would prefer that they confine their menu to rats, rather than ratters, but I hate to count on them.

Cat-riona and Pumpkin stayed in the hen house, but mama, Caledonia, was out hunting herself when I went out to release them from their prison. Must have found a hole somewhere.