It felt good to get out in the fresh air late yesterday afternoon as I had spent most of the day at my writing desk.  The sun had already sunk below the Foothills so the temperatures had fallen quite a bit from the moderate high of the day.  A slight breeze blew making me increasingly grateful for my ear muffs.  Snow still lay on the ground with the sidewalks mostly clear.  I gazed over the hill to the homogeneously white cow pasture and the thought crossed my mind again about whether cows are surprised when the grass disappears and reappears miraculously.

I walked at a brisk pace until I realized that quite a few icy patches remained, hardened and glassy ready to resist the grabbing rubber soles of my shoes and leave me supine gazing up into the darkening sky.  So I slowed a bit and picked my way more carefully, looking down instead of up…not the way I prefer to travel.  Was it a message, a metaphor for life?

And then I turned the last corner toward home to see an almost full moon in a clear mauve sky with a stripe of turquoise at the horizon.  My feet stood on dry ground and I felt joyful.

A great gaggle of geese is hanging around our neighborhood.  They graze on the grass of the school fields, around the park, and even in the median strip.  It’s amazing to watch them stroll across the streets with cars jammed up waiting for the long line to pass.

The geese perceive no barriers at the curb; to them, the terrain may change but the concrete and asphalt are just surfaces to be passed over to reach the next grassy knoll.  Not so for the drivers that toot and honk hoping to speed them up; they want those beasts to honor their byways.  “Hurry up!” they blare while impatiently creeping up on the flock.  The geese never even turn to look. They don’t seem to see or to hear the pressure cookers idling in the streets.

I love it that something slows down the traffic.  Drivers won’t yield to the students, but they have to give ground to the geese. Maybe it’s the feathers…