Wisps of mist hang like guardians over the wet meadow. Were my arms long enough, I would reach out and touch their dewy coolness, so close are they to the earth.
Nature's green is vibrant this morning, made deep by the gray filter of the overcast sky. So intense is the color, my eyes almost hurt.
Last night we went on a walk near a small marsh full of reeds and red-winged blackbirds. Dozens upon dozens of these creatures sang in the dusk as they swayed on thin stalks, vermilion shoulders bright against black bodies. There was a cacophony of noise from the birds's distinctive, almost mechanical sounds filling the air. It was mesmerizing.
The red wings are here this morning on the path at the foot of the meadow, adding their anthem to the music of little finches flitting from tree to tree. On some mornings doves, woodpeckers, and an occasional hawk or bluebird add to the chorus, but on this one two tones complete the symphony.
Such is my ritual before work: immersing myself in nature before I start the day. A short walk through the kingdom of the wild stills me before I sit within man's domain, where swaying trees beckon from beyond glass panes until I step out on the path again.