Once in a great while, when all the atmospheric conditions are just right, there will come a moment at sundown when the world is suffused with pink and touched with gold. There was just such a moment last night, and when it happens, it's breathtaking. We get many beautiful sunsets, viewed behind the silhouette of the pines on the hills to the west, and sometimes the sky seems on fire, but the magical, rare pink-gold glow must come from some refraction of light that transforms mundane objects into something beautiful. No picture could do it justice.
Pearl and I have to come to a better understanding of the house rules. I can deal with it when she opts to stay out for the night and hunt. Her "pumpkin hour," however, seems to be at four-thirty a.m. when she comes to stand on the bench under the bedroom window and call in her raspy, broken-squeaker voice to wake me to come open the door. It's not unusual for me to awake at that hour, but I really prefer to do it on my own terms.