That Glow Down the Hill

Who needs a pumpkin on a Halloween night like this?

Packing Up All My Possibles

Beyond the Red River

by Thomas McGrath

The birds have flown their summer skies to the south,

And the flower-money is drying in the banks of bent grass

Which the bumble bee has abandoned. We wait for a winter lion,

Body of ice-crystals and sombrero of dead leaves.

A month ago, from the salt engines of the sea,

A machinery of early storms rolled toward the holiday houses

Where summer still dozed in the pool-side chairs, sipping

An aging whiskey of distances and departures.

Now the long freight of autumn goes smoking out of the land.

My possibles are all packed up, but still I do not leave.

I am happy enough here, where Dakota drifts wild in the universe,

Where the prairie is starting to shake in the surf of the winter dark.

Sometimes an Undergraduate Can Surprise Me

Leaning out over the top of the stone stairs at Morgan's Steep, I photographed the skeleton of a Queen Anne's lace cup, stepping slightly to my right to let a young man come up. He must have been bouldering, I thought.

I took another picture and heard a second fellow ask, "Would you like to go to the Milky Way?"

"Nah, thanks anyway!" the first answered and biked off.

When the questioner approached, I said, "I thought you said, 'Would you like to go to the Milky Way!'"

"No," he said and held out his hand, "would you like a Milky Way?"

I laughed.

"It's Halloween!" he added.

I accepted with pleasure.

He patted my shoulder, made eye contact, and said, "It's a great day to believe alive!" Then he trotted down the steps.

Yes, it is. A great day.

Lake Cheston ABCedarian: R

R is for REFLECTION, RELATIONSHIPS, and REVERENCE

By Way of Apology to Those Who Saw Me in Abbo's Alley Today

Dear Student and Party-goers:

Please accept my sincere apology for startling you. 

I did not mean to interrupt your phone call with your mother, Young Woman, and I was pleased that you stopped, looked at me, and then laughed with me at my enthusiastic response to the insect you did not see.

I did not mean for you Party-goers to distract you each of three times you drove slowly by. At first I thought I was even more strange than usual because you stared at me instead of the road, but when you parked, removed your child and the birthday present, I was relieved to see that you were looking for the party on North Carolina. Perhaps I should be pleased that I gave you something to talk about. 

Please understand that watching several Shadow Darners, dragonflies I have seen for the only the first time over the last several days, gives me great pleasure. And taking decent photographs of them flying gives me even more pleasure. Thus, my shouting and running and standing and staring and cursing (I know, I know, but dadgummit just isn't expressive enough sometimes) and yelping Yes!

Yesterday, a friend posted this article on Facebook: Curiosity: It Helps Us Learn, But Why? Among other interesting points the writer makes is this: "When the participants' curiosity was piqued, the parts of their brains that regulate pleasure and reward lit up. . . . 'There's this basic circuit in the brain that energizes people to go out and get things that are intrinsically rewarding,' Ranganath explains. . . . When the circuit is activated, our brains release a chemical called dopamine, which gives us a high."

The woman with the dopamine high. Yep, that was me. Next time, stop for a moment and I'll show you what has me so excited. In the meantime, please accept my sincere apologies.

Sincerely,
The Odonate Freak

PS Here's what you missed.

Tesserae

A long drive down a mountain under a fall-leaf canopy, a river crossing, a pleasant visit to a folk art environment masquerading as a shrine, an episode of damselflies, a long drive winding back up the same mountain: a day well spent.

Like tiles, broken bits, rearranged into something familiar, something new, something beautiful.

Of Two Ponds, Two Lakes, One Horse and Rider, One View, and Fall

I
The Day Lake Road ponds shimmer in morning sun, swollen with rain, becoming lakes nearly, and bursting with Autumn Meadowhawks, mating and ovipositing.

II
Lakes Cheston and Dimmick wear fall well.

III
Firecracker and her rider (wearing orange as protection from "juvenile hunters"), a chance friend I see every now and then, enjoyed the day as much as I. A nuzzle and a head rub while listening to a tale of Firecracker's "failure" as a walking horse prospect, I marvel at her good luck when just the right young woman found her, and saved her, and loves her.

IV
A crowd gathered at Green's View for one reason: to look.

V
Today, I'd rather walk or ride or lie under trees more than anything else I can name. Call me Smut Woman: I am a slut for Autumn.