Thursday, June 19, 2014
The June twilight
The setting of the sun brings out a certain aspect of enchantment that I rarely see during the day here on our homestead. It evokes a new cast of characters who are invisible during the day.
As I ready water to wash before bedtime I hear rustling in the bushes. I narrow my eyes to see who is spying on me and see our neighborhood hedgehog sniffing around in search of a nocturnal lunch.
Meanwhile, the owl eyes me dismissively and completes another silent flight around the clearing. I hear its lecture later. The lesson tumbles expertly into sleeping ears.
The garden gnomes form a line and dance and laugh at me. They are even more silent than the owl's wings. One of them had too much ale and tries to pull down my pants, but can't even reach my socks. I walk away unknowingly.
And the moles meet with hamsters under the potatoes. They drink yerba mate and play chess. The barrister suggests they try a scone with their beverages. Many of them are pleased with the combination.
This whole world unfolds as I put on my pajamas for bed. The transition period of evening lasts especially long in June. The sun slides into the horizon moving both north and west. The last hints of the sunset are still visible around 11 o'clock here at the 49th parallel. It gives me an extra bit of time to ponder and consider a world I know so little about.