It’s early yet. The night is still deep, yet as I step into
the freezing fog to grab a few more logs for the fire the patio is washed
in a pale glow. Looking up, a nearly full moon peaks through wisps of silver and
I wish the cold weren’t sucking all the heat out of my feet so I could stand and
watch a little longer. It’s quiet now, but earlier the frogs were calling out
so loud it seemed as if they could fill the pond to Egyptian-plague-like
proportions. Stepping back inside, wood in hand, it dawns on me. This is my
last night in the stillness that can only really be found at the base of the mountains.
Tomorrow instead of watching the geese and ducks diving into
the water it’ll be cars speeding through a street they should be more cautious
on. Bass solos will replace the birds’ chorus, and competing television programs
and the occasional wail of an emergency will take the place of the midnight chirps and
croaks.
And surprisingly enough, as I add one last log to the fire, I find myself ready to go home.
Beautiful, Jen. Love your thoughts here.
ReplyDeleteI'd have to disagree on wanting to go back home - for me, that scene is the perfect home. To each her own, though. :)
The home was beautiful, Jess! And the scenery breathtaking! I miss the quiet already, but after living out of a suitcase approximately 20 days out of the last two months, I was starting to miss my dresser, my bed, and my own things. :)
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