Fireflies and a fox

After work today, I set out for a run, and I was glad to explore another set of trails in the woods nearby, these leading south and east to Southern Village. I followed a couple of loops, saw an owl glide by, felt like I was lost, slid down a steep hill, but eventually got to where I started and back home. I felt great.

Later, a lot of activity in the house as various children (cousins are staying with us for a couple of nights) cleaned up after a day at camp, and then our old-house pipes were temporarily clogged. I needed to pee, so I stepped out into the woods and looked around to see the shimmering of fireflies flitting throughout the broad oak trees. It was an unexpected and beautiful sight.

The other evening, I was on the front sitting porch with the New Yorker and I heard rustling near the poplar trees too loud to be the squirrels. I went back to my reading. A few minutes later, I looked up just as a red fox silently emerged and walked away down the the gravel driveway. I got up to follow. It was about 30 yards away when it heard me, stopped, and looked around to catch my gaze. Then it sprung into the air, all four feet momentarily off the ground, and scampered — happily it seemed to me — back into the woods and out of sight.



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