It’s the best time of day out here on the patio. The sunlight is soft and warm as it falls over the edge of Mt. Fagan. It casts a silvery golden luminescence over the slopes and into the sky. As I gaze off to the southeast towards the mountain, the air seems to simply sparkle at this time of the morning. It draws me towards it as if I could follow and find myself awake in a dream.
Here in Sycamore Canyon the winter raptors have returned, and the Cooper’s hawk is hunting my bird feeder on an almost daily basis. Yesterday it once again dropped onto the fence along the wash peering deep into the brittle bush as if it had x-ray vision. Then I watched amazed as it dove deep into the foliage and was swallowed up by leaves. It emerged empty taloned and hungry and rose into the afternoon blue of a faded sky.