Once you have a home with a view, I do not think there’s any going back…
I cannot imagine not seeing the sunrise from my couch or deck…
I cannot imagine not seeing the full moon rise above the mountains as Orion stands guard in the southwest sky as I did last night.
Certainly I could.
But I really love living in the country, having big windows, and feeling close to the natural world. It’s grounding.
Lots of activity the past couple days.
During my coaching sessions, I stare out my office window. Kinda like a fish tank in that in puts me in a semi-meditative state where I can tune into what I’m feeling when my client is talking.
Usually my attention is on the sun, the sky, the clouds, the rain, the birds, the mountains. Every so often, I get a front row seat to something very cool.
This happened on Thursday morning. As I was on the phone, I spotted something running across the field about a half-mile away. Like a good size dog, but clearly not a dog. I asked my client’s permission to take a moment and grabbed my binoculars which always sit at arm’s length.
A coyote tore across the open field. Probably the third time I’d seen one in daylight here (coyotes tend to be heard, not seen. Their group wailing at night is both spooky and thrilling at the same time). He ran into a thicket and out popped five whitetail deer.
I expressed my enthusiasm and reported the events to my client. To my delight, whenever this happens my clients seem to share in my enthusiam rather than being put off.
The deer scattered around the field for the next few minutes. Eventually, they made their way across the road, passing 100 feet from my office window to the security of some thicker woods.
As I sat with my coffee waiting for the sunrise the other morning, I noticed a lump in the field. It wasn’t a big lump, but I study these fields — it wasn’t there the day before. Daylight had not yet broken, so I’d have to wait a few minutes to solve the mystery.
As the sun peeked over the mountains, the reddish tint of the lump stood out from the white blanket of snow it rested upon. The binoculars revealed the fox curled up in a ball, sleeping in the open field, now being warmed by yellow rays that made their way across the field to the west. Through the lenses, I watched him wake up for about 15 minutes. From my couch, I saw him yawn, stretch, and then make his way to a hidden entrance to my neighbor’s barn.
He has a hurt right foreleg, so he makes his way hopping on the three good legs. We call him Limpy. While the foxes have been known to go after our cats, I still love their presence and am filled with gratitude whenever I catch a glimpse of these beautiful creatures.
I sat here typing yesterday when I saw a flash in the window. I could hear a bird screeching for its life. I assumed our cat had done what cats do and I quickly rose from my chair to see what was happening at ground level.
And there was a baby hawk. Standing with the chickadee trapped underfoot. I thought he would fly away as soon as he saw me in the window. But he did not. He just stood on his prey and looked indifferent to the struggle for life taking place beneath him. Like a shark. Feathers flying, he retreated to the thicket to eat.
I felt bad for the chickadee, especially after witnessing his fight for life. But then again, there was total perfection to the event. It just it, as my Tai Chi teacher Rich would say…
The hawk came back yesterday. Sat on the feeder for a moment. I suspect I’ll see him again. When I think of that, it both thrills me and brings up a sense of dread at the same time…
Driving home from watching some NCAA basketball games with friends. The night was dark (there are no streetlights in the country) and my high-beams had guided me to my driveway. Before pulling in, I noticed the reflection. Two red eyes. As I pulled closer, the possum let me get my clear look at him before he mosied into the tall grass. So ugly. So beautiful.
I have to drive 30 minutes to get to the gym or eat at a good restaurant. There are no good movie theatres in the area. I cannot get cable or DSL for an internet connection and much of my work is done online. Cell phones don’t work out here (this one’s a blessing).
But for me, living out here, seeing the stars, the sun, the animals, the seasons… I simply feel closer to God.