Nature, it seems, is unchanged by events of recent months. There are more of us traversing park paths than usual. Still, grass and shrubbery and the food chain of nature continue unaffected, as gophers and rabbits feed hawks and coyotes, fish in the river feed osprey offspring, and deer run around like deer and hide in plain sight in the park and when they wander into our habitat too.
Some trees are courageous and thriving; that must be true because some cowardly ones are turning yellow already.
Growing season morphs, summer heat and fun giving to thoughts of autumn climes – it’s been back-to-school for kids, their summer playtime is over, and autumnal seriousness resumes.
I’ve been watching the deer lately in the early morning – the doe gang hanging out together, the buck brigade laying in the tall grass, their antlers standing tall and proud like a cross between antennae and coat racks. They’re ‘in the rut’ antics of that competition in full force later this fall. I wondered how they choose mates and go out on dates … if there is something we could learn from them. They and their ancestors have made great deer for 27-28 million years – and we humans have only been at it for 200,000.
Days and weeks push along until months are more than a calendar page turned – the season edges ahead, yet everything stays mostly the same from day to day, so we hardly notice. But the young doe that crossed my path yesterday was just a newborn fawn a few months ago. She stopped, as did I, for a post-dawn staring session. She then bounded off gazelle-like into the autumn foliage wearing our camouflage coat of deer-ness.
Those young ospreys look so fully grown and well-formed until parents return to the nest when the size contrast becomes hugely apparent. They were only eggs when that fawn was born.
The coming weeks in parks and other wild places are both the paint-book of nature, the exhibit the storybook of life and death as young ones become old ones, as big birds become empty nesters once more, and next spring, the entire cycle begins once more.
As those farm implement manufacturers will tell you, nothing runs like a deer.
I'll take Optimist juice! I kept believing my novel would one day be published and last Sunday I received an email from a publisher I'd pitched back in May. They want my book! The hard work begins next week with edits, covers, blurbs, etc. But, in my opinion, my optimism got me to this place. If I had been a realist, I would have given up long ago. Is your novel next? I wrote a blog post about my journey. jmaydaze.com/2020/09/01/rose-colored-glasses/ , JM, Seattle, WA