Walking in the woods in the gathering gloaming late today afternoon, Holly and I were the only souls there … or so we thought.
As we reached the far end of the trail, before turning back, Holly, who had been bounding about happily, became still and looked away, as if listening to something. I felt a distinct sense that I should put her back on the leash, and did so.
And then, just ahead of us, perhaps twenty feet away, we saw a whole herd, nay, fleet of deer, silently leaping across the trail, and onto the snow-covered crags … one after another, they leapt, and turned and waited for each other, before melting away into the sides of the hill on our left. Holly was transfixed. So was I.
There was a three-quarter moon, which shone like melted butter on a silver plate. I love the darkness, I love the woods, I love being alive. On the way back, I sang at the top of my voice, and the trees and rocks echoed the sound, and my voice reminded me that I had, have, a body.
I missed my family (my husband and daughter were off with some home-school friends of hers — they have cats, and I cannot be there for any length of time before I get allergic), and yet … I really, really like solitude, too.
I had better watch out, or I’ll turn into a hermit.