No totally lousy day at work is ever a waste. If for no other reason than the drive home, which for me is lovely. And tonight was special enough to share.

For a while now, I've made a little game of counting critters on my drives to and from my job in town. It sort of makes the drive more interesting. (My friends here would LOL - it's mostly a twisty road full of turns and hills, trees and fields and new things to see around every corner - but I drive it twice a day. The road is boring.) Most days, this time of year, I count turtles (got up to five once) and occasionally stop to move one off of the road, if it's trying to cross at a dangerous place. Yesterday's count in was more about turkey vultures - there must have been something dead and yummy in the field down by the river, because there were six there, and more coming in. And the other day's trip home was a count of possums - three, with a raccoon literally high tailing it away from my noisy car.

But tonight was magical. The sun was down, but the light lingered - that very slow sunset that happens here when it's been a hot, hazy day. The sky was blue slate, dark and cloudless, with stars glittering and the moon nearly full. There was a scribble of dark red orange to the right of the car, just over the hill past a field of corn that had grown half a foot today, at least. I was enjoying the view, looking for deer, because so often the last gasp of sunlight is their cue to go looking for a safe shelter for the night. Usually right across the road. But the corn, so nearly blue and waving for all the world like water in the field, had most of my attention. Until, from out of the middle of the blue corn sea flew a pale grey ghost - wide wings spread, little line legs stretched out below. Flight path right over me, and off above the road to my left. I caught the shape, curved line of breastbone and neck doubled back on itself looking so painfully right, feathers pale grey against the darker slate sky, no sound but a sweep of giant wings and the heron was gone, into trees and their shadows. A perfect image of a moment burned into my mind - a magical night, a magical field, a magical bird in flight.

Only a little farther along I was treated to a great black coil in the road. A rat snake, probably six or seven feet long, piled on top of itself, soaking in what was left of the day's heat. Already cooling, it lifted a sluggish head as I carefully went around. And stayed put in my rear view, still enjoying its dusty gravel road heat bath. Such a contrast for the swift disappearance of the heron.

So much simple magic in the world - wonders to see, and always a surprise or two along the way. You want to see them? Go outside, count the number of cicada voices you hear. Or loose yourself in the fantastic shapes of clouds. Or examine the patterns grass makes as it interweaves, growing in the yard. Spiderwebs hold whole stories in their glistening strands - just ask Charlotte. But the most miraculous is life, and it is all around us.