Sunday at sunrise

Padimus alerted (as in stopped and took the pointing stance of all good hunting dogs) before we made it to the park. It was a good sign. We were early - really early for a Sunday - and we were alone in the park.

I tried to ignore the silent chant in my head, "There will be deer. There will be deer..." as we headed down the dirt track to the close meadow. 

At first the meadow looked empty, but then I spied one deer, head and huge ears silhouetted against the darkness of the woods beyond.  I waived my companion forward, two deer turned to look at us, and at least four others bounded out of the grass before all disappeared into the woods. The grass, chest high now, had given cover to the rest of the herd.

The far meadow is partially mowed and we headed there, in case the herd stopped in its flight from this harmless band, two middle-aged walkers and a big dog.

We hugged the edge of the mowed area and discovered still bright wildflowers disclosed when the grass was shredded for a practice baseball diamond. Stray specimens of cone flower, gaillardia, horse mint and verbina were bright as spring. I suppose the sun must fade them a bit and these had been sheltered by the grass.

The deer had moved along and so did we. Early morning mosquitoes began to threaten and

the sunflower saluted the rising sun.