Lost Lane

I love a good breeze.
Especially, an ocean one.
Though I am far from the ocean,
   the breeze from my rural, front porch, this morning, felt AMAZING.
And, the cooler temperatures felt invigorating.
The signs of Autumn are finally here!

The gift of this beautiful day inspired me to take Charlie for a walk.
He wasn't sure about his new leash and collar
   (he jumped when he heard the abrupt "click" of the buckle),
but just as I am sure he will warm up to his new home, he will adjust to his new wardrobe.

We took a left turn, out of the gravel circle, which leads to a dead end.
I had driven it before, but wanted to experience it by foot.
The sky was a gorgeous, crystal, baby blue,
like the color that once graced the walls of my childhood bedroom.

Charlie seemed a little nervous on our walk, holding his tail down.

It's okay, Charlie, this is new to both of us.   

Actually, though, as we walked past the line of tall trees,
   filled with birds that I could only hear, not see, 

and past the lush, green farmland, 

rolling with a healthy crop of (what looked like) soybeans, 

this all felt familiar to me. It reminded me of childhood, and camping,
   and horseback riding; of summer camp, and my imagination. 

As we approached the end of the street, we came upon a clearing,   

   where the bright green distinctly meets the crystal blue. 

And, there is a street sign that reads: Lost Lane. 

I smirked, as I said aloud, "Do you feel lost, Charlie?" 

Charlie looked at me, but did not respond.
Yea, sometimes that's a tough one to answer.  

We turned around to follow the lane back.
As we entered the gravel drive,
I released Charlie to let him run toward the house.
And, in that moment, watching Charlie run free, I felt energized, inspired,
and in awe of the beauty around me.

Lost, I thought. I definitely do not feel lost.

Old and New

Here I sit . . .

amongst the familiar tapestry from one house ago, sipping coffee from a familiar mug; 

   the faint sounds of crickets, outside my window.  

WINDOWS, actually, for there are lots of them. 

The natural light and landscape fills every room.

No need for pictures, framed upon the walls. 

Other than the chirping of the insects, and the occasional whir of the air conditioner, 

   the sounds are silence. Were it not for the memory, the exhaustion, and the tired muscles, worn down from all of the packing, unpacking, and heavy lifting of stuffed, cardboard boxes, 

my mind could be tricked into thinking this is some remote vacation home, 

tucked away, far from the hustle and bustle, and stress.

I am surprised how comfortable the silence feels.

I saw our first deer, the other night. Dusk, really. 

A mother and two young ones, but not so young as to show their spots. 

   Slowly creeping along the back field, their ears perked up with curiosity, 

as they glanced over at the newly lit house that was now filled with life. 

I wonder if they will now change their evening path, or if they will learn to trust their new neighbors.

Each morning, since we arrived, the sunrise has been absolutely glorious.  

With no veils upon the windows, 

   I am awakened by beautiful and vibrant shades of orange and red. 

And, from my bed, if I lean forward just a little bit, I can see the fog, 

hovering just above the earth, making everything look magical; mystical. 

Charlie seems confused.  

I think he, too, believes we are on vacation. 

But, all of the old smells are here, combined with lots of new ones.  

And, there is no fence to keep him confined. 

Confined or comforted, I am not sure, 

   as he seems to be unsure about what to do with all of this open, limitless space. 

I am sure he will adjust.

Writing. I am writing! 

I even tinkered around on the piano, this morning. 

Just a few scales and chords. 

I was thinking about getting rid of the piano, as it is seldom used, 

   and seems to crowd the new space. 

But, maybe, in this new, inspired setting, it will play music, again.

Or, will that wear off, after the technology arrives. 

Right now, there is no tv or internet to be distracted by.  

That will change soon, however. 

The technician is on his way. 

I can see his van leaving trails of dust ,behind, as he drives up the gravel road.

This place really is beautiful.