Jack's shadow.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds this morning. I remembered to say “rabbit rabbit.”
Thanks to seasonably chill temperatures, the slush of yesterday had become crusty, lumpy, icy snow by this morning. Ice cloaked the newly plowed parking lot. Crows cawed and flapped about. I hear that crows are getting more accustomed to living in residential neighborhoods these days. Well, this more-or-less residential neighborhood’s got a good population of ’em, that’s for sure.
Sunset.
A chickadee out back. House finches across the road.
Fell into the zone right away today and managed to accomplish much tedious work, which is satisfying in its own way. Jack napped nearby, occasionally wagging his tail in sleep. In late-afternoon we embarked on a mission to accomplish a few mundane errands. Herring gulls and rock pigeons in town.
Late in the day we finally managed our daily Beech Hill visit. En route, I spotted a few mallards at the shore of Clam Cove. The parking lot was empty when we arrived. In fact, ours might’ve been the only vehicle to crash on in there today. And the trail showed distinctly our tracks from yesterday—but with evidence of light footprints atop them in the crusty hard snow. I didn’t bother with snowshoes, the surface being hard and substantial. We followed yesterday’s tracks on up as the setting sun cast pink-orange light on the blue-white hill.
The sounds. I love the sounds up there. They’re faint, they’re subtle. The rush of distant car tires. The vague sound of the breeze. As we walked, the sun’s disk reached the Rockville Ridge and dipped down beyond it, leaving a dim, pastel sky behind.
Beech Nut.
Returning, I sensed the jarring feeling of my shoes hitting the merciless trail. I realized my feet would likely complain in the morning. But I realized also that the reason they’d complain is because they were still capable of a hard hike like this. That the stepping and jarring and crunching meant only that I was walking in a beautiful place, in beautiful light, with a beautiful chill breeze slightly stinging my cheeks. That I was alive and moving, propelling myself along in the sweet present evening moment on a snowy winter hill on the 44th parallel. Hard not to feel lucky in a moment like that.
Back at the parking lot, I paused to listen, as usual. Heard no bird calls. Heard not much of anything—until suddenly there came the whistling of dove wings. I didn’t see the bird, but I knew it was a mourning dove. I’d know that sound anywhere.
Tonight, the stars are sharp and pointy and spectacular.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Mourning dove
Elsewhere
2. American crow
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. House finch
5. Herring gull
6. Rock pigeon
7. Mallard
From the summit.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, herring gull, house finch, mallard, rock pigeon
