I don’t know if there is a better time to take a walk than after dinner . . .
When I was still tiny, and by some peoples standards I still am . . . size-wise at least, but I mean a little girl, my dad would call it ~ an evening stroll ~ “You want to go on an evening stroll?” And I did.
Everything sounds different . . . more hushed . . . more muted . . .
The trees hug themselves . . . settled for the night . . .
The frogs crouch . . .
By the murky pond . . . it smells like evening.
The stone lets the cold climb its way in . . .
Nighttime is coming . . .
Evening is the other half of morning . . .
Half light . . . just as spring and fall hold together summer and winter . . .
Shhhh . . .