TS:

We are nearly a continent apart, but your post today could've easily been posted by me. Your observations of October and hawks and deer, oh my, reflect the tableau of my life. I live alone in the middle of a big quiet wood. Well, kinda-sorta.

There are two apartments attached to my house. From its exterior, my home looks normal albeit a bit large. Beneath its eaves are three separate living spaces - each with a full bathroom and kitchen. It didn't start out this way. It morphed over the six years I've been here.

Father Carl (a visiting Episcopal priest for the School of Theology at Sewanee) lives in the apartment I added to my home several years ago. My mother wanted to be close to me and I was eager to accommodate except I suggested I couldn't be her roommate, but could be her neighbor. So, I added a beautiful apartment for her. It has a connecting door to my living space, but has its own full kitchen and bath and an adorable private entrance. Sadly, mom died before she could move in. 2010 is a blur for me. I lost a year because I grieved so deeply.

Then my Aunt Jean Carol suggested I convert the cavernous upstairs bonus room into a studio apartment. So I did. Why not, I never used it. It also has its own private entrance. It's spacious with a kitchen and full bath. It's large enough that I could've partitioned spaces by erecting walls, but the openness is inviting and people love it.

So when I say I live alone in total isolation, I really don't. Yet, I feel like I do. The configuration of the three living spaces is uniquely wonderful. We never see or hear each other. The upstairs tenant lives in Chattanooga and comes to the mountain about once a month. She writes - specifically, poetry. Her day job keeps her busy as a massage therapist for Hospice. She's lovely.

Do I have great tenants, or what! This has been the case since I started operating a quasi boardinghouse.

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Anymore, I'm somewhat of a curmudgeon when it comes to gardening - because I don't. The deer gobble up everything and I don't understand why because there's abundant vegetation on the bazillion of acres where I live on this mountain in Tennessee. Despite the dearth of enticing vegetation on my property, the deer still visit, which is nice. Small herds migrate through my property and on occasion will bed down for the night. One morning I awoke to discover a doe curled up smack dab in the middle of my front yard. I thought, "My word, I've now become a B&B!" I was flattered though - she felt safe - she'd bedded in a space that offered no shelter, yet she felt safe. Oddly, she was alone. It was sweet. I tiptoed about to let her sleep in a bit.

Anyway, thanks for stirring my thoughts to plug into another beautiful day in my life.