Moist Mornings

For the past several weeks my view from the bedroom window is milky white.  Fog, fog, everywhere.  Going out on the porch before I make our morning coffee, all I can see is white mist, blotting out trees and road.  As the sun rises it helps to lighten the endless cloud that surrounds my hilltop home.

After breakfast I lace up my boots and head out for a walk.  The resident barn swallow babies are leaning on the very edge of the nest, up under the porch roof, waiting for one or the other of their parents to arrive with their morning meal.  We don't usually encourage birds to build nests on the porch, but this year we allowed a phoebe to raise her brood above one of the north facing windows.  We even made a perch for mama bird so she could survey the field before she took off to find food for her youngsters.  After they left we thought we might as well let the barn swallows have a chance.  The chicks are about ready to leave.  Seems as if they were a long time coming.  Weeks and weeks of nest building and sitting before we could hear the peeping.

After my wildlife inspection I head on down the road.  Spider webs are strung all over the field.  It always amazes me how many webs there are.  You only see them when the dew is thick on their gossamer strands.  The sun barely lights them up but they stretch clear to the edge of the timber, ready and waiting for the unwary bug to fly into their net.

The pond lies under a curtain of mist, floating up and covering the reeds and weeds to its very edge.  Ever since Andy killed a 31 inch cottonmouth near the pond a few weeks ago, I have been cautious about venturing too near the thick growth on the banks.  But I can see the mallow plants and their pink and white flowers shining through the fog.

Rabbits hop around the edge of the road eating clover and grass.  The mist hides me and they are so tame they let me get too close for my comfort.  I tell  them silently, in rabbit talk, hurry away little rabbit to your hideaway in the grass.  Somebody will have you for his breakfast if you insist on loitering here in the open.

On down the way I flush a few of the quail who have taken up residence in the heavy growth under the pine trees to the east.  Such a joy to have them here.  The first clue we had was earlier in the year when we heard a persistent bob, bob white from the east and then the west.  And now we have quite a few of them, of all sizes.  We have tried for several years to make some places on our farm quail friendly and this year, at least, we have succeeded.

I would like to spend more time walking around and inspecting, but housework is calling me back home.  The mist has disappeared and the sun is climbing higher.  Going to be a hot day.  But the enjoyment of my solitary walk in the moist morning will last me all day long.