Sometimes I do, but then there is the cricket doing the marimba in the kitchen when I come home from shopping in Redding. And the twin spiders bookending my bath tub as I try to run water. Not to mention the gaggle of squirrels that seem to run Olympic relays along the roof – I caught a perfect vision of a squirrel’s bushy behind inside the open skylight window as I lay in bed last night.
And oh, the ripe moon making milk and cream of the tree tops – she has been more constant than almost anyone I know. I dance for her and she glows.
And of course, the deer are frequent visitors – though they only stay long enough to ingest the outdoor dahlias and roses, roots and all.
And yes, once, the local bear came tromping up to the deck in search of edibles. I stomped hard at my end of the deck and he shuffled off, coming back later when he thought I was gone. I turned on the outside lights and that was the last I heard of him. An invigorating duet!
Some mornings, a family of quail scurries down the dusty driveway as I drive out, mother herding her young into the hedgerow, an anxious matron, upper body bobbing like a metronome.
The hummingbirds serenade me from the tree. Not long ago, as I sat out on the deck to welcome the dawn sun, I was wearing my red bathrobe, and one hummer, perhaps mistaking me for a flower (!), buzzed right up to my shoulder and hovered a while.
As I sit writing this, a cinnamon butterfly floats towards me, whispering of love.
How can I speak of loneliness when I am shawled by such miracles of nature, so close and intimate, so fearless and free? I cherish my friends of earth and sky, rich and loyal companions, who ask for little and offer their bright jewels seamlessly. We break bread and commune in a wine of silence, so much more nourishing than idle words.