I use the phrase “The veil is thin,” on my social media. It’s a common enough phrase. But it sums up how I feel about the world around me. I feel that there is always something beyond what we see, that we sometimes perceive—maybe quietly, maybe with a sudden rush, breathtaking awe. For me, that happens often in nature. Not exclusively. But often.

Coyote Creek borders our home on the west and south, with a section of the Shawnee National Forest across the road to the north, and a dense patch of woods to the east. (Coyote Creek may have another, more official name, but that’s what I call it when it is so near Underhill.)

The creek runs fully only after a good rain. Most of the time, most of it is dry. The creek bed is a highway for wildlife. When I step down into the creek bed and walk along, the outside world is hushed. I hear the thud of a black walnut hitting the ground as a squirrel scampers above in the branches, chucking at me for trespassing. Insects buzz, and frogs plop-jump into the still pools that are watering hole and community center for the birds, raccoons, deer, possums, and other animals. Everything else holds its breath.

My husband, singer-songwriter Tim Crosby, gifted me a couple trail cameras for my birthday. From the footage I check every day or so, I can see how many animals come and go in the creek bed, how much wildlife goes about daily life just a few feet away from the house, and we only see them when they come out of the creek. It’s humbling.

And even though this it’s all part of the physical world, it’s another reminder: the veil is thin.

Enjoy the doe and fawn here. I’ve got lots more deer, but also some exciting coyote and bobcat footage to share soon. This is from two days of video in late May.