Mowing the Pasture
By the time I finished mowing the pasture by the creek, the sun was already dropping behind the ridge. The shadows from the trees were lengthening and the damp, cool air collecting in the low places at times almost took my breath. Barn swallows and dragon flies, seemingly hundreds of them, dipped and dived in an aerial ballet as they preyed on the smaller insects coming up around the tractor. As the evening wears on, bats will take their place, coming from the high-wall caves above the creek. Rabbits and small deer intermittently flee the tall grass for the shelter of the riparian.
On the still sun-bathed hillside across the road,I can see the sheep grazing back and forth under the watchful eyes of their donkey sentinels. Soon the sheep, the donkeys and the horses will be making their way to the barns as the light continues to fade and the deer creep in to begin their browsing.
This is why I choose to be here…