Wednesday, September 11, 2013

At the top of the hill

Curious to find out what lay at the top of the hill behind my house, I clambered up the slope, sliding on the ancient layers of leaf duff that had built up over the years to form a thick, slippery surface. I slithered and tripped as I climbed, while jays screeched a warning at my approach. At the crest of the hill, I stopped. In front of me was a flat empty field. The field was blanketed with tall grass that had never been mowed in its lifetime. Here and there were elliptical indentations, nest-like spaces where the grass was flattened, as if a body had lain down and curled up in each one. 

I had found the place where the deer sleep.                                                                     
Painting by Nicole McGrath


The Lonely Dogs said...

The place where the deer sleep... a precious discovery of sacred ground. I love discovering those secret places where you can feel the magic seeping though.

I find similar indentations now and then in the long grass on the other side of my fence and I always wonder about those wandering souls who choose to sleep so close, but are always gone by morning.

Tai said...

So much of what goes on in nature is mysterious to us. Maybe deer have been sleeping in your grass, too?