We have two deer in our backyard, practically in the house. We sit together, the doe, buck, Bella and me. His rack is small, but I know that October is rutting season. They clearly are a couple, and he is protective of her. They sleep under the redwood tree, and they eat all day. I hear them walking on the dried leaves and clomping on the deck. They fill my soul with peace.
I sit here now, peace and ease. I am grateful the parks are again open though it means more traffic, but it feels wrong to close our parks and where I live that is a great deal of the territory. It is a full moon today/tonight, and I'm heading out early to Stinson Beach for communion with the waves. It is quiet here this morning, clear, still dark and light comes. I was out last night and birds were singing in the dark, and now again they are awake. Do we all exult this time of year at the season's change?
I read Malcolm Gladwell's book, David and Goliath, Underdogs, Misfits, and The Art of Battling Giants yesterday. I recommend it.
I am led, guided by these words of Antonio Machado:
Walker, there is no road,
only foam trails on the sea.