August 2, 2023

I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very far away. The light and air about me told me that the world ended here: only the ground and sun and sky were left, and if one went a little farther there would only be sun and sky, and one would float off into them, like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass.― Willa Cather, My Ántonia

I spent much of last August recovering from Covid. I was incredibly lucky I didn’t have pneumonia or even much of that nasty cough. The red monster was “neuro invasive” leaving me foggy and confused for several days while I was actively sick. The fog dissipated but I was weak for several weeks. I remember the day I took this photo, it was the first day I walked the length of our driveway that’s about a tenth of a mile. I had to rest once I made it to the main road so I stood and watched the night hawks circle and dance. The breeze brushed over my face making muted sounds in the late summer ragweed that choked out the drought beleaguered grass. The hawks flew along the road and in tandem turned towards that place the world gives way to sun and sky.