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  • Isn’t it a beautiful day? Rain pelting, smacking against leaves that have shaded us all summer. Those tall insecure maples!
    Swhish….swash.. in wind we barely hear them groaning their discomfort.

    Thoughts flit back and forth in my brain as the flutter of bird wings move past me at migration time. It is now. Geese are flying south over our house… honking, circling, re-launching, yakking it up from the pond across the way. It is time. In November, the great Water Fowl Festival takes place on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. People reserve rooms at hotels for years in advance in order to see and perhaps purchase great watermen art or precious local wooden sculptures, decoys, children’s art, or learn more… or see and meet new or familiar enthusiasts. The Eastern Shore is a world of its own. Mysterious. Private. It is its own. We cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and ease ourselves into ES rhythm. Antiques pile up here, there, everywhere! Ice cream. Crabcakes. Airy wines. Salt wind, deep light.

    I love this time of year. marshland to deciduous forests! Oh, sweet memories. Hawks swirling. Images from my childhood come back to me cooking a rich neurological feast in the unique smell of Bucks County soil. The smell of leaves, corn shucked by great scary-beast machines and quiet walks in the woods always flushed up a deer or two, or more. A buck! My father taught us as children, “As the Indians did, children, tread softly in your moccasins… sh-h-h-h…. toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel. That way the deer or the badger cannot hear you.” I still walk toe-heel when I want to be silent in the forest. Back then, only the owners of their own properties sat in tree-stands before dawn. Guess what? As I write, it is snowing. Our first snowfall. Geese are flying over me, conversing in harried honks.

    Not far, birds. Not far from here. Your journey is almost over!
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