Today is magic.
The autumn morning sunshine slants through the trees, back lighting the leaves. They glow green, rust, orange. The yard is enchanted. Shadows stretch long fingers across the grass. Breezes shake sound from the trees, a dry rustle like the patter of waves washing over pebbles.
The house is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the tick-tock of the kitchen clock. I sit here at the table surrounded by windows on three sides, just being and watching. There is a funky scent of fall in the air, not unpleasant, simply the slow decomposition of yellowed hosta leaves, a cool fragrance whispering of winter.
The red squirrels are busy scurrying about, bursting with energy. They are scrounging for food, digging holes in the earth, burying food, storing nuts and berries and seeds. They chatter and scold at other squirrels and birds, like news reporters. Intruder alert, breaking news.
Red squirrels are sociable; they wrestle and play and chase. Three of them are playing tag in the trees and swirling around the trunk of the ancient maple, a blur and whirl of red-rust on dusky grey bark.
Squirrels are adept at preparation, but make time always for play and socialization. They remind me: work and play go together; one is not balanced without the other.
It is a praiseworthy lesson.
Words and photos are ©copyright Carol Steel.