Hermitage

I had a fabulous retreat at this little house in western Illinois, on some woods and prairie in the middle of farmland. I took long walks, read, said the daily office, journaled, and just sat in contemplation - outside, inside, on the sunporch. It was super. The rolling hills were gorgeous, and I loved just being alone for three and a half days. I read a book by a man who lives as a hermit in the Ozarks. I ate on the little patio when it was nice. I saw lots of white-tailed deer, rabbits, birds, hawks, a badger, and field mice. Oh, and beef cattle. I also saw the remains of a few creatures who had been eaten by coyotes (a rabbit? a badger?). Life and death. I actually heard a coyote barking frenzy the first night I was there, makes me shiver. But I was pretty docile: I made bread and falafel, slept a lot, took pictures, and prayed about next year. More on that later.

The remains of one of those little creatures. Fur was spread over about a fifteen foot square area, and not a scrap of bone or any blood. It seemed so mysterious and awful. There was another patch of fur like this just down the hill from my house - white fur, so I could actually see it from the porch. A reminder that the world is not a peaceful place.

I love prairie.

The view from the house - that's the little chapel, across a creek, a former chicken coop.