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06/20/2004 Archived Entry: "Transcendent moments"
DRIVING UP INTO THE WOODS TODAY, I swooshed around a familiar corner into an unexpected sight. A whole hillside -- acres and acres and acres -- was thick and bright with blooming foxglove. Purple and white stalks, up to six feet tall, completely covered last year's clearcut, seemingly having sprung up overnight. The sight was so transcendently beautiful and so surprising I nearly drove off the road. I'd swear there was nothing but ugly post-logging slash there just a week ago.
A couple miles later, off on a side road, we (the dogs were along, too, of course) came around another curve to find five little coyote pups, about three months old, playing in the middle of our path. The dogs let off a caterwaul (or is it a doggerwaul?) and the pups scattered. One little one had a hard time finding a path into the underbrush, so he ran along an embankment for a while at eye-level to the truck. I was able to look right into his little brown eyes from just a few feet away. There was no mama-coyote to be seen, but the pups appeared fat and healthy. And until we came along, they'd been clearly enjoying the sun.
I tend to think of transcendence as being something Very Big. And when I go looking for it, I don't find it. But then tiny transcendence waits, literally, around turns in the road.
Posted by Claire @ 02:26 PM CST