Canada geese have headed out on their Southern migration. Flies and other insects have disappeared. The grass long ceased growing and the leaves are rapidly falling off of the trees. Coyotes are pressuring the flock and I have seen the first sign of predator trouble.
Each morning bears a hint of frost and a layer of thin ice on the dogs outdoor water bowl. Each time I step outside the air is crisp and more fresh than it feels at any other time of the year. Our slice of the world is preparing for the winter season.
I have been walking across the pastures a lot lately. I walk in the early morning; the grass is quiet at that time, weighted by the nights touch of frost and just a bit soggy but not so much that it saturates the boots.
For whatever reason I seldom walk to the West so I have been heading that direction of late. The dogs and I rediscovered a long forgotten piece of Native Prairie and while I take in its Fall splendor, they attentively investigate it as dogs do in places they have not been to or long forgot about. Dogs have been providing me with too much to think about lately so I am happy to be in this prairie space and let my thoughts go with them.