I had a small camp fire last night, the first of the season. After a long afternoon of pulling weeds and cutting vines and brush, it seemed a shame to spend the early evening indoors when outside was so perfectly temperatured. I have not pulled weeds in a year or more, as it is usually only in the spring that the yard requires such labor. I recall last year becoming stiff and sore for a couple of days while walking around like the Frankenstein monster.
When I awoke and stepped outside this morning while it was still dark I could hear children up the road laughing. I’ve heard this early morning laughing several times in the past few years, but there are no children living close by. It’s nearly the same sound each time I hear them. There are three or four and they are having fun, as if playing a game. The laughing suddenly stops and all goes quiet in the forest blackness. I don’t quite know what to think about it. If I had good timing and a ready flashlight I would go take a better look, but it seems as if they sense my presence and then hush. Rather than be concerned about who or what is doing the laughing, perhaps I should also wake up laughing.
I watched a partial moon inch out of the treetops, a big luminous critter vying for my attention among the chorus of early twittering birds. I hope the early worms had a sense of their imperilment. I get dressed and get my coffee gulped, and get on down the road. A busy day ahead of technical writing, with little time today for the frivolity of living, so I remind myself to make the best of the moment, when it so easy to forget myself and get lost in the business moment.