The moon glows with a brilliance I have not noticed in some time. Perhaps because it has been cloudy lately on nights such as these, I just don't know. In any case, I am awake and notice several deer grazing in the yard like cattle in a field, except they move more quickly across the lawn.
Whatever coolness the air had to it earlier this month, it has been erased during the day's heat this mid-October weekend. Unfortunately, the weather brought with it a virus that mimics the flu to my sinus cavities and lungs. This is the first time I have felt like doing much of anything in several weeks.
I did have the fortune of noticing the monarch butterflies move through last week. A few still cling to what is left of the flowers in both yard and field. When I lived in the city I rarely paid attention to migrations, nor slept on screened-in porches for that matter, I guess priorities and the idea of security had different meanings then.
Like the migrations of birds and butterflies the days of comfortably sleeping on screened-in porches have come and gone for now, in part due to changes in the weather over the years, but mostly due to changes in the population across the countryside, and the negative influences that can sometimes come along with said changes.
What was once a rarely used dirt road often now sees traffic at all hours of the day and night. The skies also seem much more crowded with aircraft than they were even five years ago. I sometimes look at old photographs in the county courthouse and am reminded of just how populated the county used to be. As I've said over the years, there is an ebb and flow to the populations in rural America, just as there is to what can become downtrodden and then revitalized sections of cities.
Yes, I've been fortunate to have experienced these comings and goings of rural American life in this day and age just as I have to have lived during a time before communication towers haunted the mountain tops across the country, seemingly reducing their size and majesty.
For the moment, beneath this bright moon, I am reminded of the silence of what the days were like here not so long ago. But I know a time is coming when like migratory animals I, too, shall move on, perhaps back to the city, maybe to as remote an area as I can find left to write from. I wonder where the wind will carry me?