The woods are very loud at night. I never think about how many critters are outside until they start chirping after the sun goes down. Crickets, frogs, whatever else. So many. The sound is deafening. Like how the gazillion stars fill up the night sky. There have to be at least that many critters in my yard alone. Granted, it’s an 800-acre backyard.

Multiple acres stretch between my house and the road, and on them roam ten bulls. Landlord’s wife said two weeks ago that there are ten but that one would go to slaughter soon. I counted nine today. I watch them watch me when I drive past them as I come and go. Today they watched me wash dishes through the kitchen window. They are nosy and a little creepy, but I’ve quickly developed an affection for them. Ernest has resting bitch face, or he is sincerely angry all the time. Pablo has goofy rabbit ears. Jim, Ezra, Joan, Fitz, Evan, Jules, and Passos have yet to show much personality, but I’m making an effort to find some.

The farmhouse is old but cute, and it’s comfortable. I feel safe out here, so far from the world. I bring my cat onto the screened-in back porch each night to satisfy her primal, nocturnal instincts. We listen for the coyotes together, their howls slicing through the din of chirps. No coyotes tonight, unfortunately. But kitty is content lying on the porch next to me in the dark, head darting this way and that. This corner of the world isn’t for little kitties. She’s a snack out here. I’m guessing she knows it.

. . . . . .

This is one of those summers that provides little down time for me. We sold the house, moved, and now we are settling in while I am also getting things ready for the new school year. I will have one very complicated job in two locations through two employers, and I start in about a week.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

I was worried that this adventure would be a difficult transition for me. On the contrary, I haven’t been so at peace in a long time.