October 11, 2013

Forty degrees, even on the ridgetop, the house had been closed up but the windows are opened before I leave, to let in while I’m gone the warmth of what promises to be a pleasant day. Click, click, click, down go the night temperatures further into the 30s at Mason’s, and there is ice on the irrigation hoses–at last. No Snipe, no birds drinking at The Stockpond, no song, no call notes, there is only utter silence. Later, though, more Cassin’s Kingbirds, Blue Damselflies and other dragonflies return.