Our preserve . . .

Doing the supper dishes around six yesterday evening and looking out over the hill I caught some movement on the upper wall. I yelled for Puppy's Pop to come quickly as the sleek red fox was gliding along the old stone wall. Fox stopped and slouched down and I saw movement below the wall. I thought is was a squirrel but it was a big fat woodchuck! The fox stayed put and the woodchuck ducked back into its wall hiding place. The fox then came down and ran across the top of the hill towards Ma Tante Blanche's. He had something wrong with his left front leg but was still beautiful and smooth as he scampered to the wall on the eastern property line. Fox stood there for a while and then lay down for a rest. I've never seen a fox that wasn't in flight. This was a first. I think that we've probably missed a lot of action on the hill because of the tamaracks. Now that they're gone I put out the lights in the kitchen almost every night so I can see the stars. We no longer keep the light on the garage burning so the hill is dark and the stars are brilliant. All these sights make me smile, even laugh out loud.

Young Mr. H. whose parents lived diagonally across the street has been laid off so he and a couple of his brothers are working on the old house. That is a big farm house and I believe that it is older than our home. The barn is in better shape than the house! Of course the barn had been turned into a home umpteen years ago and the present owners keep it immaculate and well landscaped. Not sure what Keven has in mind for his folks' home but it's nice to have them working on it. His parents always kept the property clean but one of the kids destroyed it after the parents died and he lived there with his kids and dogs.

Not sure what we'll be up to today. Maybe take a ride to Mystic?

Quote: Nature does not capriciously scatter her secrets as golden gifts to lazy pets and luxurious darlings, but imposes tasks when she presents opportunities, and uplifts him whom she would inform. The apple that she drops at the feet of Newton is but a coy invitation to follow her to the stars. ___E. P. Whipple