Bison

It’s a quiet morning. The predawn sky is milky white with scattered clouds. The air has that delicious briskness of late fall. Standing silently at the edge of the pond I slowly pan my gaze from left to right, looking for any movement, any sign of the diurnal world waking up.

It begins with the idea of possibility. 

A piece of land becomes available. We go to the land and walk in, full of questions and ideas.

Is this landscape being overrun by buckthorn, honeysuckle or other invasive species?

If you happen to go for an early hike on a dewy morning at Stagecoach Prairie, you may notice beautifully woven orbs of white glistening in the morning sun.

It’s happening slowly. A little more each day. The pulsing pace of summer and all her activities are slowly giving way to the more subdued rhythms of autumn.