Disappearing in Austin
One day, about a year ago I decided to take a sketchbook and a pencil on my walks. I rooted around in my closet and unearthed a mostly doodle-filled, ring bound notebook and set off to one of my favorite parks. I took the circuitous route through the woods before settling on a bench by the ponds. The place was deserted except for me and the peafowl. Several of the dingy white peahens roosted on the pergola and on the roof of the house. One peacock squawked from an oak tree branch. Another strutted past, eyeing me. His feathers looked scraggly and I wondered if they molted in the fall. I wondered if I were molting, too.