I took a long hike yesterday at Henry Coe State Park. I didn’t pass a single person. I wasn’t really alone, though. There were deer tracks, rabbit prints, and a large cat-like paw print with claws that brought a chill to the back of my neck and the feeling I was being watched. Smoke from the Camp and Woolsley Fires hung in the air like a shroud. It made me wonder if an attempt was being made to cover devastation and death in a veil of acrid smoke. Will tears of rain later be shed when the bodies are recovered and mourned?
What power there is in fire! Fire’s rage is intense, a perfect storm of opportunity, harnessing Wind to do its bidding and broadcast its destructive tantrum. Is your ire the backlash for invasion of your forest borders and intense thirst when you can no longer drink from once abundant streams?
The grass was tinder dry and small billows of fine dust arose around my feet as I walked. I was cheered by a single California poppy blooming stubbornly past her accepted season. I think, “Nevertheless, she persisted.” Oh that I would so unabashedly delight in my spartan environment that my colors cannot be hidden but cheer the discerning eye and make a solitary hiker pause and turn around to take a photograph.
I am startled by a young deer who runs across the trail in front of me, closely pursued by a coyote. Coyote was surprised to see me and the distraction provided respite for Fawn, who quickly disappeared in a nearby thicket. Coyote took up vigil on the hillside, ears alert, and watched long enough for me to capture her portrait with my phone camera. Who should I cheer for when uninvited witness to this event? I am happy for Fawn, who gets to live another day. I am sad for Coyote and acutely feel her hunger and disappointment. She, too, tries to do the best for herself and her family.
Quail families bustle about in the underbrush and startle me as they hurry to their hidden places. Their tracks criss-cross the trails creating an intricate mosaic. Are they aware they are producing art?