Author: Nan Jones

Down below the old apple tree, there’s a meadow where goldenrods grow freely and the mountain stream sings its soothing melody. Each day, just before dusk, we put out deer corn. The deer have come to expect it and often come early, anticipating their sustenance before we’ve cast it across the slender grass.

We delight in providing for them.

We delight in their trust.

But they must journey from the forest wilderness to receive the blessing.