Today's practice: a deluxe edition of "Dancing with the Squirrels." While I moved, they moved. Or should I say--perhaps more accurately--while THEY moved, I moved.
It was a relief to witness their return to our woods. Many red squirrels and occasional greys raided our bird feeders this summer. Come fall, though, they vanished. Several weeks after their disappearance--it was painfully obvious--we speculated that they'd been eaten by fishers, one of the most vicious predators in the forest. Then last week several large grey squirrels reappeared. Still, no reds.
Today the greys were up and down tree trunks, chasing, brushing casually past one another, sprinting across woodland grasses, and twitching their tails. Late in my practice I looked up to see one large grey nestled on a tree branch tail over his head; a still, furry bundle.
It was great fun to watch the squirrely activities as I shifted my weight forward and back, side-to-side, and circulated my own balls of energy. My practice finished a bit sooner today. Was I following the lead of the squirrels? It's hard to say. Today is the first time since I started this moving-writing exercise that I have an early morning appointment ... no time to dally.
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