Quiet Time

Like a little kid who needs a time out, there are those days I just need quiet (not because I've been naughty).  Most days I turn on the television for the "white noise," the illusion of company.  Yesterday the TV didn't go on until well after dark, and the day before, not at all.  Like a turtle, I retreated into books, finishing three in two days.  Batteries recharged, today I can again say, "Bring it on!"

Smoke from burn piles on the surrounding hills drifts through the trees and perfumes the air.  I'm hoping Tree Guy comes soon to light up the huge piles of brush that have accumulated here.  It would be nice to get them "gone" this season, before the birds build nests and delay burning again, as they did last year.

Sunset last night was spectacular, but the photo I took didn't do it justice.  It was as if there were a whirlpool in the sky, red and purple clouds swirling in a vortex, back lit by gold.  Coming back up from the barn, there are nights I am stopped in my tracks by the beauty above in the west.  From my hilltop viewpoint, I have the best seat in the house for one of the "greatest shows on earth."

The moon rose late last evening, well past the time of our nightly walk.  The lights on my hat barely pierced the dark to allow us to pick our way around the loop.  Only their glowing eyes kept Bess and me from tripping over Frank and Pearl as they coursed back and forth in front of us in that figure eight that cats do so well.