A few weeks ago, Bern swears that a deer ran though our yard. Jumped the very short fence and vast foliage in the back and then, after running through our back yard, jumped the waddle she's built to keep the dog in and ran out toward Cornwall Avenue. Going where? There's no woods anywhere in that direction. Maybe going to the Congregational Church or to St. Peter's. A Congregational deer or an Episcopalian deer, who knows?
And such distinctions don't much matter any more. Thomas Moore, who was a Roman Catholic priest (I always say 'Roman Catholic" since I am a "Catholic Christian" and don't want to be left out of the catholicity of it all) is offering a workshop at Wisdom House in Litchfield (run by the Sisters of Wisdom) about how to design your own spirituality, either inside or outside of an existing structure.
Which sort of makes distinctions like a Congregational deer or an Episcopal deer seem rather antiquated.
Then today, I came out on the deck while our pork roast was roasting, and Bern told me she'd seen the biggest yellow cat ever run through the open field behind our back yard. It was so big she thought it might be a bobcat.
She was still there when it ran into view again. I thought it might be a fox with a withered tale.
But our neighbor, Mark, who is a forester and can be trusted on all things wild and wondrous, told us it was a coyote, God help us all.
I said to Mark, "we're going back to nature in Cheshire".
And he replied, "not the worst thing I can think of...."
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