Autumn is finally asserting itself here on the mountain. After a couple of weeks of teasing us, the leaves are turning to shades of red, yellow and orange. They drift to the ground in pairs, a forerunner of the blanket of brown to come. The fog rolled in this morning to bring stillness and quiet to what would normally have been a noisy Saturday. It's woodcutting season and the sound of chainsaws echo up and down the ridge at daybreak - but not when it's wet and foggy outside. The sound this morning was far softer. The little screech owls are calling.
I hear them so infrequently it's always a treat to wake to their calling. I found my slippers and stepped outside to listen. One was incredibly close, its voice strong and loud. The other was so far away I almost couldn't hear it.
They called back and forth and it was soon evident both were on the move toward each other. Do these little owls mate for life? I don't know but I think this must have been a mated pair. They finally settled together across the road and up on the hill. One screech owl calling is eerie. Two in unison is downright spooky. But I'll take spooky any time over the sound of car horns, commuter trains, and sirens.
It's time to get on with my day. I have two stories in progress and I need to get one of them finished. I've dithered long enough on both of them, and now the owls have called to me to tell a different story. I'd better get busy.
KC Kendricks
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