Mangy and wet

Even though it's rainy and foggy and chilly (and will be for the next 400 years, it seems), it's still good to be back in Maine, a feeling only amplified when a fox trotted across our yard this morning. Granted, I did see a fox in Ohio last week, but it was at an intersection of two country roads, with houses on each corner, and the fox was moseying from garbage can to garbage can as if it were used to getting fed on trash pick-up day. Our fox also looked a bit mangy, or maybe it was just wet, as we will be later when we tackle the spring gardens, and I did worry for a moment if its den was destroyed when the new seawall of riprap was constructed down the shore. But it quite purposefully went down the bank as if going home after a successful night with voles. I hope it hasn't been reduced to scrounging for left-over people food. It's good to share a little of wild and wet and ripe, in amongst the lilies, bleeding hearts, and brambles on our bit of ocean-side home.