Morning…

Dew coating waves of tall fescue in the surrounding fields glistens as the sun comes over the ridge to the east.

The rooster crows and the hens cackle and cluck.

Dozens of birds sing out in every direction, happily welcoming another period of daylight.

A cool, tender breeze gently rustles the leaves in the oak, hickory and walnut trees.

Rested and ready for another round of fun in a world of adventure, the dogs stretch, and then head out the door.

The smell of coffee wafts in the morning brightness.

The chickens move out from their indoor space, eager for another round of ranging their territory in search of bite-size, six-legged delicacies.

Doug Davison

Doug Davison

An earthworm struggles to leave the cement walkway, determined to reach the safety of grass-blanketed soil before being overcome by irreversible dehydration.

The rumble of a truck on a highway a mile away momentarily breaks up an otherwise peacefully serene setting.

A squirrel frolics in the trees, soaring from branch to branch like an acrobat in a furry circus act.

And the grass grows…

Afternoon…

Hoofs to the sky, a horse rolls on the ground in the corral, hoping to finish with just the right coating of dirt.

After spying a human, the donkey honks and brays in hopes of earning a hand-delivered treat.

Amidst the bluest of blue backgrounds, puffy clouds dot the sky, forming a gigantic mural of both random patterns and seemingly familiar shapes.

Boldly colored flowers create a naturally picturesque scene begging to be photographed.

A box turtle unhurriedly makes its way across the lawn.

Buzzards effortlessly circle above a broken down barn alongside a dusty country road.

A hawk perches alertly on a barren branch high in a scraggly, dead tree.

With a full belly after a successful hunting mission, a cat lounges on the warm, sun-drenched wood of the picnic table.

Hummingbirds execute gravity-defying aerial assaults on one another in an ongoing dogfight around the feeder hanging from the eaves near the front porch.

Shadows lengthen.

And the grass grows…

Evening…

Deer visible in a nearby field raise their ears and then leap into cover past the tree line, putting caution ahead of bravery and instinctively avoiding a perceived threat.

A lone coyote calls out as the sun begins to set over the ridge to the west.

As darkness sets in, the rest of its pack joins the song.

Bats silently swirl and swoop in a nightly quest for succulent airborne tidbits.

Coyotes in a second pack a half-mile from the first start to chatter and yelp, and the two groups howl in unison as if competing for a part in a grand play on a wild stage.

Leaves on the oaks, hickories and walnuts lie motionless in dead-still air.

Minus a specific itinerary and unaware of worry, a skunk calmly saunters past an outbuilding as it begins another nocturnal expedition.

The call of a whippoorwill rises from the forest above the sounds of softly singing crickets and cheerfully chirping tree frogs.

Millions of stars form a brilliant mosaic of light spanning the breadth of the heavens from horizon to horizon.

The temperature noticeably drops.

And the grass continues to grow…

So goes a fine spring day away from the pavement, out in the country, deep in the Ozarks.

Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. His columns are posted on the blog page at http://www.houstonherald.com. Email:  ddavison@houstonherald.com.

 

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