I began here in spring. The sun was only beginning to warm. The grass was dotted in dandelions. The fields were but a rich brown fertile soil...awaiting seeds of corn to be sowed.
Promise and hope. Of longer days. Of heat. Of color. Of summer. Of love.
It's autumn. And - here still I am. The leaves are showing first signs of changing. The colors are soft aster and gold. The corn has grown full and ripe and tall. Ready for picking.
Never - have I experienced the change in seasons up in these green mountains like this.
No thing makes sense...and every thing does. In the mornings - I wake and walk and wish to believe in living spirits. In the dark of night - I'm certain I'm hearing ghosts.
And then - there are the cows. Gentle. Slow-moving. Seemingly content to graze endlessly in their pastures. To stand tall in the sunshine...and to sit in the cold discomfort of the rain.
I'm warmed by their consistency and presence. They - these sweet simple bovine creatures - somehow remind me to be grateful for each new day. Gentle...quiet acceptance.
While the free-flying birds ground me...the cows set me free.
I'm back up here in these mountains - with me and myself and I...and with them - again. Back where I began in the spring sunshine...and now - with only the gifts of autumn.