The sun wasn’t up yet. Twilight lingered, but the trees outside the window were taking shape against a brightening sky. Suddenly, I needed to be in the woods, feeling the earth under my feet, listening for the barred owls calling, smelling the musky freshness of wet mud, greeting the day with wild things. In less than 10 minutes we were out of bed, tea and coffee in hand, heading to Mason Farm Preserve.
The sun was just coming over the treeline as we arrived, only one other car in the lot! The dew was thick as sweat on an August day, lining every spider web with beads of condensation.
The early birds were singing and perching on the tallest twigs they could find in the meadows – a beautiful Common yellowthroat, an Indigo bunting, a Prairie warbler. The sundrops were still closed up, awaiting the warmth of the…
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