Sunday Morning

Foggy morning -- and still -- as I walk to get the paper. A crystalline spider web trembles on the gate. Dewdrops glisten on the delicate strands as the gate opens on its automatic hinge. The dog is in heaven, bounding through the wet grass. It’s cool for us. Forty-eight degrees. Deer apparitions move in the fog down the road. By the well house, the cat slurps from the ground birdbath. Have to keep that clean now that he’s decided it’s his watering trough. Everything is damp from the recent rains.

Another huge spider web hangs attached to the electric wire leading to the barn. The spider is a black dot in the center. Mysterious creatures. In a while the web will be gone, once the wind picks up. Spiders consume their own silk and spin it out again in the night. A cow across the fence bellows and the cat runs in through the open sliding door. Scaredy cat. He meows at me to come in, too. He must think I’m in danger.

The mustang grape I thought was a casualty of the long summer’s drought has a few green leaves appearing. Wrong time of year but the vine must not know that yet The other grape vine flourishes on the inside fence. Freesia shoots are starting to push through the earth in the south-facing bed. Wrong time again, but I hope they’ll make it through the winter. I take down the hummingbird feeders. Birds are long gone, leaving the remains of nectar for the yellow jackets. The SO’s mother says the wasps are beneficial. They eat aphids and web worms. She’s probably right but I don’t like seeing the greedy things feasting on the red juice that was meant for the tiny birds.

I call my SO outside to see the huge web on the high wire. He’s as interested as I am in such things. The black dog darts past us, pretending she’s a real shepherd. She ducks her head and charges at the cows across the fence. A comedian. Back inside, she gets her Sunday bone. The cat finds a Christmas catalog on the floor and settles himself down for his first nap. My SO takes the newspaper to his easy chair, and I turn on the computer to write this down, sipping my coffee.

Ah Sunday morning, home .... nothing like it.

Onward ......