March Evening Fog
Quick! Get your camera and follow me! Out the back door, your boots half on, through the rustle of last year’s leaves, rain-soaked by this evening’s freak spring thunderstorm. Watch out for the branch there, the one that fell in the snow storm. Shuffle across the almost dark yard with me, and out to the round-pen. Don’t zip your jacket. We don’t have time. The light is changing every second. It’s almost dark.
Captain’s silhouette emerges from the fog that’s pouring in faster than we can walk. He joins us in the round-pen, wet from the rain and snuffling at your pockets. Did you bring a treat? Here, brace your camera on the tube-steel rail, and look… The fog is rolling up from the creek and oozing across the neighbor’s pasture. We’re laughing, you and I, as Captain rests his chin on your shoulder, here in the almost dark. His lips gently explore your camera, your ear, your shoulder, and he sighs, fogging up the view-finder and your glasses as well.
We laugh and push him away, firing the shutter as we do. He laughs in his mischievous horse way, and trots off into the fog. He disappears. Just this… Just now… Could it be any more beautiful?
Quiet… then, slowly at first, the sound of the first peepers, the tiny frog voices of spring. So glad you could be here to enjoy it with me.
All photos copyright Zen Doe