The Fox Family

In lingering days of winter, longing for the sun’s return, and the miracle of spring, when snow overwhelms the psyche, and the cold is very old, magical events are most welcome.  Early, in this morning’s first light, three fox romped not 20 yards away, at the doorstep of the garden shed; mom, dad, and tiny fox-lette.  Their wildness in bas relief to the garden’s structure; their primal energy playing against our civilized, coffee-routine.  The warm, reddish coloring was electric against stark white snow banks.

Snapshots from the kitchen window do not begin to relay the wondrous energy of these unexpected visitors.  But they were not visiting. They had arrived to stay, for they crawled under and out of their new den, making dirt fly over the snow, counter point to our stillness, stock still with incredulity. We were the ones held captive.

Are they portents an astonishing spring?  Are they a numinous sign of new life, of a cunning new life?  Or is it a simply haphazard event?  We are the ones with a shed, and they the ones caught with an early new born?  We can read into what we will, but un-expected gifts open us to move into life with greater enthusiasm. (‘Enthusiasm’-from Greek origin-to be inspired or possessed by the gods.)

These fox are beautiful reminders that there are primal forces to whom we owe allegiance.  There is a world out there not connected to computers and the mayhem of modern life.  Simply the reminder it exists, offers enormous solace and balancing.

They symbolize a simplicity of being.  My perspective of ‘being fox’ is to play, kill, eat, sleep, dig, and lick the baby.  And, oh yes-be beautiful.  Be yourself.  Be a wild spirit.  Create a home where you disturb only the rose bush, eat only with need, and nurture your family.  May we live side by side for as long is needed, honoring and learning from one another.

 

Fox Family Frolic

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