It is official, the clocks have been set back, the leaves have past peak, and there is a certain smell that permeates the mornings. The rains took a tole on the leaves and color of the edge, but there is still plenty to see, and the gingkoes on the lane are still in the process of becoming brilliant. I have always hesitated to love the fall, because I knew it preceded the winter. I am now trying hard to enjoy what is today and not worry so much about what is tomorrow. A new leaf.
Zoe got me up a few nights ago at 4 AM wanting to go out, not that usual, but then after a while she started incessant barking, I called, she did not come, I was finally able to locate her in the dark and drag her in the house. I suspected she had found something interesting in the form of a creature. Her frenzy continued through the morning, until it was finally light enough for me to investigate. I found a fox curled up in the grasses by the pond. It was clearly in physical distress, thin, didn't run away from me, barely lifting its head. The hunters had seen the same little fox a week earlier, falling down intermittently in the field. I got out the shot gun, and waited for the painting crew to arrive, asking if they could help me and the fox. I know I did the right thing, but it still preys on my mine.
