Distant thunder rumbles and clouds split the sky – inky indigo and cornflower blue. A few prairie seeds are ripe, but I harvest lightly as the birds need some forage for late season and winter. Nearby is silence but in the background crickets set up a soft continuous call. Marvin Cone clouds tower to the east, while an anvil cloud over reaches from the west.
The feather’s sheen catches my eye and I pause, flip it over and back, over and back, reflecting on its and my complexity. Makes me laugh a bit like the crazy wine T-shirt I wear “Complicated – but surprisingly Refreshing.” It’s quiet – really quiet in the Prairie this time of year – except for crickets continuous call. But that is different from the action of birds in mating and baby-raising season, and from wind and rain. It’s just quiet. Waiting. Like August is waiting. Or should be anyway.