Meadow is the timid fawn stepping from the evening shadows behind his mother. Gentle lips nibbling shades of green beneath the shadow of our placid Norris Dam. Skunks pawing the fertile soil. Geese bedding down for the night with not-so-subtle honks as they fight for their foot of space. A red fox sneaking from the tall grass, racing from cover with her head held low. Six downy pups on her heels.
Meadow is the way the shafts of sunset reach from the horizon to touch the last of day. Blanketing the world in shades of orange, then blue, then gray. An elk cow bugling to her calf resting with its lanky legs curled beneath it as the stars appear in the velvety sky.
A bat taking flight, gliding on nearly-silent wings. Its buggy prey unaware of its approach. A small black flash and one less moth.
Meadow is the soft coos of morning mourning doves. Gently nudging the rest of the animals awake, pulling them delicately from their dreams.
Meadow is a slow breeze dancing, leaping from grass-top to grass-top. Quivering blades and tiny seeds. It’s the life that exists beyond what we can see from the surface. Mice and moles tunneling. Caterpillars munching, camouflaged amid the stems. Birds lilting. Grasshoppers playing their fiddles without needs for bows. Earthworms peeking above the dark, rich soil after a burst of summer rain.
The Saturday afternoon smell of fresh cut grass. The late evening brush of fog weighing the stalks with beads of glass only fully appreciated with the next morning’s sunrise.
Meadow is a dream. A someday hope I’ll find myself looking out from my farmhouse porch over a waving field teeming with life that is so much more than just grass.
(The photos above were taken by me)