There is a joy living in a special place. The swans have no idea how much joy and happiness they bring to the humans that pass their way. At least they do to me. If they did, they’d waddle closer, flap their wings, honk, dance, and put on a show.

Watching vegetables sprout is always soothing. I need soothing. Things are not always idyllic around here. Sunday night the dogs caught and killed a raccoon. Quiet, gentle Takuma and Enna turn into ferocious, wild beasts when they are on the hunt. They can be as ferocious as hyenas. I feel sorry for the raccoon, but were it not for the dogs, I’d be feeling very sorry for the ducks and chickens the raccoon may have made off with.

Enna escaped unscathed. Takuma has battle scars on his head and neck. They have mostly healed, but I’m sure I’ll feel them for a long time each time I pet him.

It’s only the second time in fifteen years here that we’ve encountered a raccoon. The other time was long ago, when we had BB & Echo. They woke me up early one summer morning, barking at the chicken coop. I ran out and a raccoon went flying across the roof of the chicken coop, the dogs chasing after it. They chased it up a tree and kept it there all morning and into the afternoon, when we brought the dogs in. The raccoon ran off and never came back.

[videopress eroAnzei]

Every few days I get to see blizzards of white snow geese fly up off the fields. The guess when I make an errand is, in which fields are the snow geese today? And where are the swans?

One thing I will miss when life returns to normal are skies which stay blue all day. Days go by without sight of a single contrail. But lately, the number of jets flying overhead has increased.

When a jet first passes overhead, it leaves a thin, white trail. But steadily, that trail spreads far and wide. Have a jet fly by every few minutes and by mid afternoon a blue sky can change to misty white. There have been many a glorious summer day turned to a pale, cloudy day, just from the jets ferrying people from Asia and back, to Europe and back, barely aware of the Skagit Valley below.

We’re on the crossroads of jets journeying from the West Coast to Europe, from many points in the country to Asia. Once things return to normal, I’ll miss blue skies which stayed blue all day.

You can’t ask for a better morning this time of year. Barely cold, no rain coming down, and promises of sunshine on the morning clouds.

The ducks on the pond are happy this morning. The four young ones we moved to the pond have blended with Snow and the other two older ones. The more the merry, that seems to be duck philosophy. I guess if you are a duck, the more ducks you are with, the less chance you will be the one eaten.

The cherry tree the blooms year round doesn’t disappoint this time of year. Blossoms and fall leaves on the same tree. That makes for quite a show.

The Chuckanut Mountains and the other Cascade foothills are soothing today under a blue, November sky. If this was Japan, there would be small shrines on the top of many of the peaks. For mountains that comfort so many, on a summer day, the trails up the mountains are packed with hikers, shrines at the tops would be fitting.

Chuckanut Mountain was particularly dark and broody today when I went down to the Post Office. On a day like today, it looks like it’s gone into hibernation.

As thick as the clouds look today, it’s hard to imagine that on the other side of the clouds the sun is shining brilliantly and the sky is bright blue. Years ago, when I used to fly in and out of Seattle, it was always a surprise to take off under dark, sullen skies and pop into dazzling blue skies soon after take off.

Do the birds that live here ever fly above the clouds just to bathe in bright sunshine?

Winter has returned to the foothills. When the clouds lift, the upper half of the foothills are dusted with snow. White, gray, subtle shades of blues and dark greens, winter here is a palette of pastels.

I enjoy going out this time of year. Every day is a chance to watch the swans. It’d be nice to know where this group of swans came from. Where in Alaska or Siberia did they spend their summer? There is a pair with their young swans, but is it two pair with their young, or a pair with their young from two summers ago along with the young from this summer?

And where did the swan winter two hundred years ago when the valley was thick forest? On the large lakes? Along the rivers? And how has the change in diet affected them? What they forage in wheat, corn, and potato fields must be different than what they forage in lakes and rivers.

I would enjoy having the swans drop by to swim in our little pond, but it is too small. Swans are like jumbo jets. They need long runways to take off and land. I’ve seen large peahen blast straight up into the air with their powerful wings, but swans need a running start to take to the air. Watching them take flight is like watching jets lumbering to the end of a runway and leaving the earth just before they run out of runway.