Morning Encounter at Misty Millbrook

It was another frozen foggy morning, one in a long string of them. And there were warnings of potential black ice for those out driving, so I was indeed careful. But I couldn't resist a side trip to Millbrook to walk in the silent, beautiful mist.

It was only because I was walking so slowly and carefully on the icy wooden boardwalk that I was able to get so close to her. The doe was standing near one of the big trees in the middle of Millbrook Marsh. She was robust and healthy looking, and she was eating and eating. (Eating for two, or even three? - I wondered.)

I did not startle her in the least when I approached. I inched my way up the boardwalk until I was standing about 12 feet away from her. She lifted her gaze, considered me; dismissed me as any sort of threat. (Is it because I ooze peace and goodwill? I sure hope so!)

We spent a few minutes eyeing each other up - with her eating, and me taking photos, surrounded by the sound of silence - and then I slowly walked back to my car and went to work. What a neat morning encounter to begin my day!

The day also provided the first opportunity to visit the Christmas tree (see extra photo) inside the Glass House at the Arboretum's children's garden. I was there Thursday morning of last week and inquired about it; and the kind lady replied that the tree would be decorated by sometime last Friday. Hooray!

Now, I have some rather sad news to share that is relevant to the Christmas tree story. The fuchsia plant that is home to the Dancing Girls has gone dormant for the winter and I pulled the last pink bloom off it just before the long Thanksgiving weekend (which would mean around November 25).

The last Dancing Girl, as I have been thinking of her, appeared in two blips since then. She participated in the great Waterpik misadventure, and was present to help welcome our new friends from India. She had heard about "The Christmas" and was very curious to meet it. She had even heard a rumor that a prior Dancing Girl had been present to celebrate last year's actual Christmas Day!

Since last Thursday, when we learned about the tree inside the Glass House being decorated, the last Dancing Girl has been begging to go and see it. And while I've been back several times since it was decorated, the doors have always been locked because I am typically there so early in the mornings.

Having been off her plant for so long, the Dancing Girl was starting to grow weary. She was looking a bit ragged at the edges, and her voice was down to a whisper on this day: "The Christmas? Please? Can I go and see?" It seemed I could see her fading before my eyes. So we mounted an emergency expedition to fulfill her heart's desire. (And it's good we did, as - alas - this turned out to be her final day with us.)

And so it was that with a lump in my throat, I carefully transported the last Dancing Girl and her trusty Cat-Steed, and the Crittergators (of course), and the 12 new friends (one for each of the 12 days of Christmas!). And we visited the Arboretum's children's garden, and the doors to the Glass House were open! So the friends climbed about the festive tree and played happily among the little Christmas villages on display nearby.

If you look carefully at the extra photo, about a third of the way up from the bottom, you can see the Dancing Girl and her Cat-Steed just to the right of that dangly pink card. I know it's awfully tiny, but perhaps you can see that she was smiling, as she finally got to meet "The Christmas" just before she left us for good.

It's time to pick a song to accompany this posting, and I'm sharing one that seems a fine accompaniment to the quiet, misty Millbrook scene above. I just heard it for the first time on this day and it knocked my socks off. Have you ever heard and loved a song, and then heard someone ELSE do the same song in such a way that it seems you never even heard it before?

It happened to me once before, with the song Hurt, which was originally released by the Nine Inch Nails. And then I heard and saw the Johnny Cash video for it; and it just ripped my heart out. I became obsessed; I watched and listened over and over. The raw emotion in it was palpable.

So, yes, that's how I feel about this one. The song, you've heard before; but I bet you've never heard it like THIS. The performance is beautiful and gut-wrenching. Also, as photographers, perhaps you will find the video's visuals absolutely mesmerizing, as I did. Here's Disturbed, with The Sound of Silence.