We went for a walk this evening -Syrah, Bandit, and myself. The sun had gone, and the waxing crescent moon was above the horizon as we set out.
The grass by now is the faded straw yellow of summer, the way all grass eventually goes here. But even in the fields of the dessicated, there are still signs of life: wildflowers with names I don't know lifting their pencil lead thin stalks to the sky, and weeds close to the ground.
We took the long walk around the upper meadow. The horse thundered up halfway to meet us, perhaps not enthused about the company of dogs, but it beat being alone. As the dogs pounded ahead of me, they raised small clouds of dust, their paw prints melding in with the turkey, horseshoes, tennis shoe, and bear tracks already there.
As we reached the upper side, we came across nature in action: parts of a deer vertebrae scattered about and nearby, a jawbone. It looked to be a young deer by the wear on the teeth. I picked the jaw up to take back to the house.
There was a moment, when the dogs were ahead of me, that everything was perfectly still. Everything. No wind in the trees, no sounds of cars or dogs nearby, no crickets or frogs, nothing. Just the silent sound of crescent moon beams falling on the meadow.
I love this place. Here, like no other, I can hear God.