A devil under the front door step
Dick MacKenzie - www.dickshideaway.com
Quiet camp mornings sing their own special songs. I'm usually up early and sit silently on the deck with coffee and my thoughts, looking out over the lake and scanning the forest clearing where the cabin nestles.
The two hours after the sky lightens until the sun is bright above the horizon hold a perfect, constantly-changing nature show.
Today when I stepped out the wind was whistling heavy clouds across the sky and bending Aspen tree tops halfway to the ground. "Rain today," I said to myself. (A later look at the formal forecast said, "No rain today.")
Our loon family dove for food, then preened themselves for a few minutes beside the dock. The chick born this summer is nearly as big as the parents and will be able to fly and migrate by this time next month.
A movement at the corner of my eye alerted me to an ermine, still in its summer brown fur, peering from under the step at the front door. He looked at me as if I shouldn't be sitting here, but otherwise went about its business checking my pepper plants and sniffing around the deck. A few minutes later, when Grace and Wojo returned from their romp in the woods, the ermine disappeared, though I suspect he hasn't gone far.
As sunrise arrived I slipped down to my small garden and twisted 14 mature zucchinis from their plants and piled them on the kitchen counter. Mary will be surprised when she wakes up.