The tipi is aglow with a happy soft morning yellow. The chimes are dinging calmly. The creek is running fast and wide. Smokey and I just returned from a calm morning stroll. We admired the full waters, the pale yellow leaf skeletons still somehow clinging to the trees, the rich moist air, and paused to take in the beautiful ecosystem upstream. In the "beaverdam" heaps of dead grasses and sticks extend out into marshy pools pouring like tiny waterfalls over and into one another. The sun-drenched clearing is full of singing birds, animal tracks, and critter holes. Feels like it's just teeming with life... a welcome break from the heavy dull energy that hangs over much of the property. Not sure why I've always gotten an eerie feeling about the farm... maybe due to its painful history with slavery?
On our walk back I was struck by a beautiful moss covered rock with little baby ferns shooting out of it in all directions. Gorgeous.
The tipi is glowing brighter now. Maybe the cold gray blanket of sky will consider lifting soon...?
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