Mysterious God, thanks for deer that check me out every time I try to spy them drinking from the birdbath, with a stare that says  “This  is for me, right?” Thanks that they lingered here after houses were staged all over their foraging grounds, instead of complaining, “There goes the neighborhood!” For us, a deer-grazing yard has been full of wonder, even the unintentional sacrifice of hostas when the “Deer-Out” wore off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks for the amazing Harvest Moon that lit our drive home one early October evening.  As it rose on the horizon, it split the green traffic signals, heeding the upward arrows, ignoring the downward-pointing pair.   At one point the red-haloed signals seemed to join the upward rise of the moon, yielding to their secret passion for the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks for my collector’s item beer stein. It came across the bar first as a powerful cup of “Delirium Tremens,” a trippel Belgian ale that rings my bell, as no ale can. The next time, the amazing trunk-stemmed stein was slid over the bar as a gift, because I had asked to buy one. It has tiny engravings of an elephant head in the bottom of the glass and a full elephant on its circular base. Elegant stein for a potent brew.

And thanks for the invisible spider web that shone briefly in the morning sun as I turned a corner on the Riparian Trail. I had to circle around it to find one angle where the sun flashed across its majestic face, an elaborate snare for heedless soaring prey.

Glowing gingko shudders

Three days of brilliant yellow

Over our driveway.

And for this morning’s rising sun, setting the clouds on fire before showing its face on the horizon.  It joyfully disrupts the sleepy sky: “This is the day that the Lord has made.” Thanks for the pileated woodpecker, who frequents the suet feeder in the afternoon.

Thank You for local beauty that blesses me every day.