Skip to main content

night traveler

he mocks me
Most nights hubby and I go for a walk with our dog, Isabella.  With us having been at work all day, it’s important for her to have some exercise – us too.  

The walk is in the dark and where we live there’s a definite lack of street lights.

Across the road there lives a park with a nice path around a small lake.  Geese, deer, assorted birds and tons of frogs have begun to call this newly developed area home.  We saw three good sized bucks come down to water, the velvet still clinging to their horns.  A gaggle of geese created quite a commotion one quiet evening when they landed in the dark.  As quickly as it was loud, it became noiseless when they settled upon the water.

Another evening the path was littered with frogs not much bigger than your thumbnail.  Belle was her usual nosey self, sniffing them.  When one hopped, she jumped straight up like a scared rabbit.  Sheesh dog!  Some kind of protector you are. 

Deer, frogs and geese are pretty nifty, but not nearly as sweet as what happened next…

Coming to the far end of the lake, we could hear a screech from some sort of raptor.  We thought probably a night hawk or falcon (ah, I coulda had a falcon) but there, sitting under one of the lampposts near an outbuilding was an owl.  He was big and husky and definitely voicing his opinion. 

I couldn't believe he was just sitting there with the light shining down on him.  Aren’t they nocturnal, let’s-go-flying-in-the-dark-to-find-small-rodents birds?  What was up with that?  Was he was injured; should we call Fish and Wild Life?

My fearless darling took Bella and I slowly walked toward the owl.  I got a little closer and stopped, my heart beating faster.  What if he took after me?  I turned to Lonny for some moral support, maybe even protection, after all he and the dog were a safe distance away. 

“How close should I get?”  He indicated I should keep going.  Really?  I took another few steps, not wanting to be prey.  Owl, Esq.  let me get as close as his comfort level could handle, his large wings came up and with a deep swoop he was off into the night.  We haven’t seen him again, but we hear his barn owl voice echoing in the dark and a silent swoop overhead.  

captured on a plate
night traveler 

bitter dark
a fine mist hanging over the lake, water ripped by an unemotional wind
a sound came at regular intervals eerie and strange
stars shining and shooting streaks across the blackness
did nothing to illuminate the disturbing noise
breathtaking wind cut to the bone 
icy fingers whipping the face, and leaves left clinging to barren branches 
limbs creaking and mocking as the raptor sang its devouring refrain
night music chortling a low noise
lone geese on flight and wild canines howling unseen in the night
streetlamps about the pond casting faded light on the path
unexpectedly, under a bare bulb, his form took shape
wide eyes staring, seeing more than I
round head turning side to side, emitting the screeching sounds
chilling, disconcerting, alarming
one step and  another
night traveler takes flight on wide melodramatic wing flaps
leaving only a shadow in his path


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance


  1. Wow! Sounds like you live in a really beautiful and natural area. I had to look up up the owl. Here's what I found. Many Native American cultures viewed the owl as a totem animal representing wisdom and prophecy. They believed that those who saw owls should take the sightings as a sign to stand back from everyday life and turn inward for wisdom found through being quiet and listening to a person's inner voice. They also considered owl sightings to be signs that release aspects of life, including attitudes, that no longer serve a person.
    Owls don't sit for everyone. You were so lucky to get so close. I enjoyed reading this.

    1. Oh, thanks for the back story from Native American culture. I feel humbled and privileged; and I think I need to spend some time listening.

  2. this is such a story derived from just listening to the sounds and sights around your neighborhood. It is amazing..Boo

    1. Yes, it sure is. Were you aware of the Native American culture aspect that Marlene shared?


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

lonely has no boundaries

She came into the shop to purchase barbecue sauce, usually 3 to 4 bottles at a time. Her eyes were clear blue, and she had a ready smile that was mixed with quietness and melancholy.
I remember one particular day she came in with eyes red around the edges. I asked if everything was ok. She looked at me with her clear blue eyes and said, "Yes, but there are days you just need to cry." I agreed then, and I agree now.

Today is one of those melancholy days; not a need-to-cry day, but one that's on the side of sad and contemplative. So, it seems appropriate to share this post that's been sitting as a draft for weeks.

People are lonely, desperately crying to be noticed.
I've been lonely. I've had conversations with people who are lonely. The unfortunate thing is, it's not the outcast, recluse living in the hoarder house down the street. It's the chipper girl at the coffee shop who only wants another couple for her and her boyfriend to hang with. I think to m…

a tale from foxtail

fox glides, low to the ground                       sly, inquisitive, resourceful creatures solitary, bronzed and ruddy with flashing eyes        bushy tail dipped in white  forest home or urban domain                                      fox, a nocturnal pilgrim
Summer has afforded me an opportunity to move about aimlessly; not quite a coddiwomple, but sort of. This week, I found myself writing and sipping iced chai at Foxtail Bakery. Let's just say the cookies were perfect and divine; I was completely tempted to purchase more pastries than I should. 

There's a tall counter with white-backed stools and a big garage door to let in light and fresh air. Picture windows face the street. Cars buzz by. Black and white striped umbrellas twirl like the tutu of a ballerina.

Assorted tables and chairs in turquoise and orange fill the space, along with a low-slung wooden table and bistro chairs. Some new-school rattan is thrown in for good measure. It's comfortable and alive.

A larger-tha…

leaving las vegas

Leaving Las Vegas, a line made famous in movies, song lyrics and billboard slogans. For me, it’s more than a catch-phrase. It pierces my heart, now more than ever.

You see, previously, people were there drawing me back, but as pages are torn from the book entitled “Life,” I’m more aware of how fleeting and transient things are. Change is a given.
My heart feels - each word expressed - come back, don’t be a stranger. I know they’re wondering if they’re losing all contact with the family of ones deeply loved. I wonder, too. And while I also know that’s how things happen, I don’t have to like it.

So, I stare out the window of the plane, the sun bringing light and heat to the day in shades of pink and pale orange which burst against the blue sky. My thoughts are pensive, questioning, seeing only the rugged ranges with striations of soil and color veining them. As the plane climbs we soar above the clouds stacked on each other like mounds of whipped sweet cream. Contemplation is as thick as…