Over the river and through the woods

 

Jerry and I spent a week (a week!) watching the light shift through the trees near the Meramac River in Crawford County Missouri, just outside Cuba. We had a charming little cabin on a hill above the river. Aside from the tornado warning on Sunday it was an uneventful week, plenty of sleep, lots of listening to the world, watching the rain. And noting that when Jerry says he wants one meal of only hot dogs with no judgment he tops out at three. Here's what else happened:

Outside the kitchen door a beetle of some variety watches me, as I move to take its picture it turns. Paparazzi not wanted here.

The Meramac River gurgles and glints; in the understory squirrels are roughing up leaves, moving that prime acorn to another hiding spot. The leaves drift down. A tufted titmouse, a chickadee, a sparrow feed. Crows and Blue Jays chat loudly not coming close enough to share their sheen. Cattle call, the long hollow sound echoes over the river. A train rumbles.

Dusk. Coyotes are still warming up, a few yips, a few barks. Truck noises carry over the hill. Looking up the tree branches are holding the perfect sky and stars just blooming. An owl tests the acoustics, I call back, silence as I listen for wings.

Overnight rain splashes through the trees, cold tries out its toes creeping around the cabin. The dog that was barking nearby is caught on the yard cam.

And wind and wind and wind and then the day wakes to mist over the river, up through the trees around the cabin. The leaves have been lazy this year, turning colors late, the season shifting to a new way.

Tuesday morning, beside the road, up the hill, the old snag is topped with sunbathers, round shouldered and shiny headed buzzards getting what warmth they can before heading out to search for carrion. One spreads its wings and turns slightly, the wing span catching light creating shadow. Later I see them far above the trees, riding currants.

A week here has been a good tune out, a good rest.