Autumn evening provides contentment
One recent night after dinner, we sat around listening to an old classic John Denver compact disc. My wife and I ruminated over the day's happenings. Hers was a day to shop with some friends in Atchison at their favorite home decor shop. Mine was a day of fecals, hypodermics and taking pets' temps from you know where.
At noon, I called her to check in, forgetting where she said she was going and realizing at the last minute she was out in total pleasure, while I was slaving at the job site. I must say the day began and ended naturally.
As my daughter Katie and I drove down Loring Road, in the bottoms of Nine Mile Creek, we caught a glimpse of a majestic and proud eight-point buck chasing his girlfriend across a newly harvested cornfield. Love was in the air I mused.
Katie was not as enthusiastic as I was, as I started to share typical bow hunter's buck fever with her.
"Don't worry, Mr. Buck. I never shot one of you yet," I said of all the many outings I had in the woods attempting to prove my manhood.
At the end of the day, after closing the shop and jumping on Kansas Highway 10 bound for Lawrence, I chased an exceptional sunset of crimson, red and pink. The beauty of which I could only give the maker of the universe credit.
As I entered Lawrence, headed for the lab at the hospital to drop off blood workups, there was just enough light left to enjoy the tail end of autumn tree colors. Ah, autumn in eastern Kansas. Pretty spectacular this year. Don't you agree?
Lea and I were reminded of deer again as our dog Minnie could be heard outside the front door chirping at the top of her lungs as the local deer herd crossed our brome field. Unfortunately, my wife felt it offensive to listen to Minnie's obsessive barking.
"Minnie, knock it off, will you?" she said.
Minnie just ignored her and kept up the distress call. Instinctively, she was keeping those does and occasional buck at bay, I thought.
Funny how her act of defiance to Lea didn't seem to bother me.
"I quit. She's your dog. You go call her in or I'll ...," my wife said.
As I called Minnie home, she obediently bound up her path to our door, nearly jumping through the threshold. To Minnie, life's one big party. Once inside, she scurried to the kitchen floor to see what crumbs she could vacuum up. I dispatched her quickly though to her kennel in the garage.
Peace and quiet resumed on the prairie once again. Only now, I could hear the dryer revolving, while my son talked on and on to his girlfriend on the phone downstairs. Somehow I think I preferred Minnie's barking to the manmade clamor.
As I went to the front door and peered out at a crescent moon overshadowed by drifting wisps of clouds, I heard the cries of coyotes along the creek down below. Maybe they were beginning where Minnie left off, chasing those does through the dark woods. Who knows?
All I knew was I was one fortunate human on this planet earth amongst God's creatures. As I shut my front door on another beautiful autumn Kansas day, I felt not a day older, but a day closer to home.