Dusk

I had a long talk with my mom this afternoon. We are making plans for my sisters to visit and getting the rest of her things out of the house now that she has moved to an apartment. However, as soon as I was off the phone I grabbed a jacket and headed outside because I was afraid it was going to be too dark to see my way along the country road if I waited any longer.

It was cool outside, but not cold. There was no wind. The cats were just getting fed, so none of them followed me down the lane. I turned and headed up the dead end road. There was the noise of traffic coming from a road several farms away, and some farmers’ grain bins were roaring in the distance, but the road I walked along was very quiet—no birds or rustling of corn.

A waxing crescent moon was above the pine trees as I looked over my shoulder. Not too far to the right of the moon was a large, white object—shining bigger than any star. I wondered if I had brought my binoculars along if I would have been able to see that Venus, too, was a crescent tonight.

I turned and look towards the east and found the only other object in the night sky—a reddish, peach colored spot of light, slightly smaller than Venus--an almost butterscotch colored Mars. I wondered if a telescope would be able to see its polar cap and the dark strip around its middle; the night appeared to be clear enough for that. Glorious.

I walked to the top of the second hill and stood listening to silence.

The stars began to come out. The Summer Triangle was visible first. Then I noticed that I could trace the handle of the Big Dipper. Two stars of the Little Dipper and Cassiopeia were there. Then I found the Great Square and Andromeda. As the sun’s evening rays began to fade, my friends began their evening dance in the night sky.

As I came down the last hill, I heard a mew. Bug was there, asking for some love. I scratched his belly and he walked down the lane with me. I closed the garage door and spoke to my son as he headed down from the shed. Inside I checked the woodstove and found that the coals had dwindled and the stove needed to be stoked. I checked the soup in the crockpot and added a few leftovers from the refrigerator to the pot. The evening news was on and the family was chattering. The spell of the beautiful evening was not broken, though. I still feel it here, in my heart, and I want to carry it with me for a while. Wouldn’t you?


A photo I snapped a few nights ago when it was full moon.