Staying close to home (13)

(Last night’s sunset.)

It’s another gloomy day here in the Bogs.  The low responsible for this weather sits and spin, sits and spins, bringing the clouds and the rain and the gloominess.  But there is a beauty in it too.  Last night’s sunset is a good example of some of that beauty.

I had to stay close to the house today when I went out.  I was expecting a delivery.  As usual with this sort of thing, I had no idea when the guy would show up.  At first I thought I would sit on the porch and watch the birds in the bird bath, but after a little while I started to wander around, staying close enough to be able to hear the truck when it pulled into the driveway.

Do you remember that view above from yesterday?  No?  Here it is (with the one above for comparison):

What a difference a day makes, eh?

(Reflections on a gray day.)

One of the remarkable things about today’s outdoor experience was how quiet it was.  Not that we live in a noisy neighborhood, or not the typical kind of noisy neighborhood.  But usually there is a rooster crowing (the neighbor’s rooster crows at all hours of the day starting just before sunrise), a cow mooing, a donkey braying, a horse whinnying, or a dog barking.  That was not the case today.  It almost reminded me of how it is just after a good snowfall when the world is hushed and seemingly at peace.

(A view of the neighbor’s woods and cornfield.)

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.

~ Stanley Horowitz