Fragments From Floyd

This is the part of summer I can be happy with. The mornings are cool, the days not consistently too warm, and there are still vestiges of spring yet in the growing things–vigorous but not yet rank. To get across the pasture means taking the mowed path or being resigned to getting soaking wet and/or covered in grass pollen and shed flower parts.

On the one hand, I’d be happy for our neighbor to come get the hay while it is at its peak. On the other, I do enjoy wading out in the waist-high pasture of a morning stalking the spiders who have no idea what beauty they create in their hunger and stealth.

In the evenings, headless deer eyes shine back at us from the tall grass, bodies hidden as if under water.

This obscuring submersion in timothy and bluestem is a way of hiding babies, too–spotted fawns and turkey chicks. The dog smells the nursery across the road the minute we let him out. We’ve pulled him off wildlife babies already a time or two.

Fecundity: the summer benefits we get for the cost of the heat.

Stumble it!