I am like a deer

Saturday as I headed to my compost pile, I thought I heard a noise in the woods.

After dumping my items in, I ventured down into the woods.

Something slunk before me and vanished into weeds.

A black cat, I thought.

To my left I saw movement, and then the noise like the rusty sound of a door opening. A turkey's head bobbed and weaved. The black animal had disturbed a hen.

She moved back and forth a while as I stood still, watching. Then she too vanished.

I moved forward a few more steps, now to investigate the wine berry bushes.

To my right I heard a rustling noise. I paused. Suddenly there was a snort, followed by a flash of brown and white. A deer dashed away.

Moving on, I discovered a rounded spot in the leaves up against a fallen log. Obviously, a deer had lain there and I had disturbed it.

This morning as I sat picking quarts of green beans, I listened to the songs of birds. They chattered, sang and serenaded me while I contemplated life's turmoils and thought about how best to spend the rest of my day, week and life. Heady thoughts for 8 a.m.

By 11 a.m. I had picked 6 quarts of beans, cleaned the oven, cleaned 8 sets of mini-blinds, washed and put away two loads of laundry, and spent time on the phone with important folks like a mentor, a lawyer and my accountant.

Here is it now, noon as I write this. The sun is burning hot and I'm already pleasantly tired. The day still beckons me toward other activities. My mind still churns and wanders.

I am curious about everything and scared of it all.

I feel great empathy for the deer.