I have huddled on the edges of mountain cliffs and stood high above the ocean while a frigid wind beat against my body. I have cast weary eyes on the face of my newborn son.  Many wonders exist in the world, a fraction of which I have beheld.

But yesterday, I came around a bend in the road and braked, stunned by what I saw.  In a long wide pasture, cows grazed, their heads to the ground.  Their charcoal hides dappled the pale surface of new vegetation growing under their feet.  A large flock of geese had landed in the field, white dots interspersed among the brown bovine bodies.  As I watched, the geese bobbed their heads downward, picking for grubs and tender shoots, I suppose.  They had no objection to the massive beings wandering near them, nor did the cattle bother the fowl.

I can’t say why this struck me as beautiful but it did.  I sat in my car on the empty country road.  I wished again for a real camera.  My cell phone could not do justice to what I saw.  I reached for it anyway, stopped only by the sound of a motor, a vehicle approaching from behind me.  Reluctantly, I put my car in gear and continued onward.

I heard the owl outside my house as I settled for the night, a polite sentry or a shrewd hunter, depending on your view.  His night-time call tells me that he has no concern about the tin boxes scattered across the park holding humans who think themselves in charge of their land.  I put out my light but he kept calling, in a language too old for me to comprehend.  I took comfort from his song, whether or not I should.

It’s the fourteenth day of the fiftieth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.