It has been a month when the colors decided to hold back their glory. Perhaps it was the 75 degree temperatures or the lack of rain. And yet, I can't complain. Certainly not with parts of the United States burning or recovering from hurricanes. And of course, we aren't the only ones. Mother Nature is not a happy camper this year, no matter which part of the world one called home.
Those sunny days were so welcome, offering time to read a book outside or take a walk (or two or three or more!).
I would pass by my neighbor's house -- decorated to the nines in skulls, ghosts of white gauze and witches of black.
And, in another eight blocks, I would be doing my rounds at the Ditch. No Harry the Heron, I fear. I suspect we are simply missing each other. But when I rounded the corner, coming out of the wooded section, what should I see but this.
Oh, she was magnificent. Gently grazing, then chomping on whichever leaves she found most delicious.
Alert to the traffic on the nearby road and the occasional walker, but unafraid.
Be very afraid, Pretty Girl. Hunting season will begin soon.
I made another loop and what should I see but...
Yes. Two. Actually, four.
There is much to be said for a step-lively walk. But there is much, also, in that gentle time where you stop, look, pause and simply gaze that what is before you.
In another month or two, only the more hearty will keep up those walks, regardless of weather. And in a few months, only those who are willing to blaze their own path in the snow will soldier on.
Where will our deer spend the winter? Perhaps on their island in the ponds. Waiting, as I will, for the spring.