Early Morning in the Yard

She stood, still, along the edge of the lawn in the dawn light. Her dark eyes were locked on Makayla and me as we went about our business a short distance away.

She was so still--not even her ears twitched--every one of here senses were focused upon the dog.

Makayla noticed her standing there. Her brown coast almost fading into the green underbrush where the lawn turns into forest.  I thought for a moment she might begin barking and wake the neighbors--but as she was on a leash (for which I was thoroughly grateful), she turned away without making a scene at the deer--still frozen in place.

I know that had she not been on a leash--the chase through the brambles would have been on resulting in hours of cleaning her coat of the prickers she would have picked up. The deer would have crossed the stream and up the hill faster than Makayla could follow--but the noise of the barking dog and crashing deer would have broken the stillness of this early morning wake up slowly time.

I probably would have just taken her to PetSmart for a grooming.

I truly was amazed at Makayla's lack of interest.

I was more fascinated by this creature on the edge of the yard than she was--they are so beautiful when seen alive and not the mangled corpses strewn I normally observe along the highways.

She was so still--watching me watch her.  I wondered when she would make her move.

I looked down at Makayla and then back to where she was. Mesmerized.

I am glad the deer are still around the house--they remind me of my past and growing up in the rural area of Central New York State. Where I know life was simpler, the speed slower, and the wildlife more abundant.

The two-lane road that connected us to civilization was a lifeline and a a protection from the hectic life I now live.

I sometimes am reminded of those times by the scents--especially after the rain, like yesterday as the warm, humid air rolled up out of the small creek behind the house loaded with smells of plant matter and fresh growth.

I close my eyes, and remember standing in front of the house I grew up in looking across the fields to the hills in front of me and thinking they seemed so big (I had not yet seen the Rockies) and I had to conquer them (which I did). And seeing a herd of deer on the edge of the fields--just at the forest line.

And in the short time it took me to remember the sights and the smells, when I looked back to where the deer had been standing, so silently she had made her escape.

And I realized--so had I.