Around here, we have fields and forest plots and swamps…and…beauty. These colors are a tad distorted, an improvement on the grey day we lived through. But, also a real truth. The leaf colors are changing.
I tromped up the hill by this farm, walking fast (ish), trudge, trudge—pushing my pace, and this odd sound, dogs growl-barking, penetrated my stride-based concentration. I moved my mental focus to the sounds, and…hmm, ohh, ahh, what dogs? No dogs…. Oh, and I figured it out: the spinning windvane, fighting the breeze to generate its own gyrating metal grating tune, greeeech, aaach (over and over, with slight variations)—no dogs, only metal-on-metal creaking, screetching drama.