Screams sounding human permeated the Vermont evening sky…

Sunday early evening quiet after returning from a quick trip to the twin state. The many pleasant and easy miles journeyed home were occupied with sweet new memories. No passage is direct right now not even the roads of New England…

Time spent with my son and his lovely wife next door in New Hampshire. A couple starting out. A new house. A first home. Plans for each room already in motion. A fabulous new adopted four-legged brindled coated family member. A rescue striped in browns, blacks, and warm subtle shades of red. A sweet boy of maybe two years has nicely settled into to his new life fully stocked with ample opportunities to be loved and adored. He occupies his favorite spot on their couch located in front of the bay window. He rests his gentle head on the top cushion while he spends much of his day peering outside searching for chipmunks, squirrels, or possibly a neighbor passing by. Just looking. Observing. Penny for your thoughts Frankie?

Seated on a cushioned chair in our patio as the busy day wound down somewhere around 6 pm, the firepit roars. Deep reds and oranges captivated my glance. A dramatic focal point interrupted the usual quiet landscape. Self-reflection aided by the rising gray smoke guided the flames otherworldly. My busy brain felt out of place as nature imposed a respectful quiet. The fire popped and crackled with a certain musicality. Nearly autumn yet summer straggles on. Vanilla strawberry hydrangeas bursting at the far corner of the stone patio. Long and leggy Black-eyed Susan’s randomly and abundantly mark our landscape. Our fourteen-year-old rescue relaxes nearby. He is always close by. The freshly mowed serenity of the rolling hills surrounded our little house on the hill. Two sides only as the forest occupied the rest. A snapshot of rural Vermont. A lifestyle…

Screams sounding human permeated the now evening skies just as I returned to the comfort and safety of my house. I sit quietly to understand the sounds I hear. The cries of a fox? A coyote? A bobcat somewhere in our wooded neighborhood? Haunting yet oddly assuring as I observed from my favorite spot on our couch…

“Habitat for wildlife is continually shrinking — I can at least provide a way station.” Peter Coyote

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Elizabeth Ricketson

Elizabeth Ricketson

A graduate of Providence College with a BA in English, Elizabeth Ricketson has always had a love of literature and the fine arts.