Lately, when dusk falls, it finds me taking a break from the computer, folded into my rocking chair on the front porch, Belle snoozing beside me, camera at the ready, glass of wine in hand.
It's a transitional moment between day and night. The front porch faces east, so there's no dramatic sunset, just a quiet hush and shadow settling over the woods. A breeze floats through, tickling the wind chimes.
The Mexican Jays take their turn at the birdfeeder before calling it a night, relinquishing control of the feeder to the cardinal family.
Baby cardinal has turned into Punk-Rocker Teenager cardinal, full of spunk, but wary of me. Dad flies in every so often, but I haven't seen Mom lately.
I hope she's okay.
A squirrel tiptoes close to get a drink of water from our pie plate bird bath, keeping a wary eye on me. One last drink before heading to bed.
I try to quiet the voices and noises in my head so I can listen to the woods. The buzz of insects. Belle's rhythmic breathing. A peep, peep from somewhere, then, as dusk deepens, I hear the Chuck-Will's-Widow, so like a Whippoorwill's song that I mistook it for one for years.
A mosquito buzzes in my ear and I wave my magic yellow bracelet at it. Take that, sucker! The buzzing stops. It's a miracle! I'm so glad I spotted these yellow bracelets in our grocery store. It's like wearing a citronella candle, and they seem to work, if you can stand the smell. Just 99 cents. I plan to load up on them.
Belle sighs in her sleep. The shadows deepen and the buzzing gets closer. I haven't seen the cardinals in awhile. I picture Teenager snuggling into the nest between his mom and dad, not quite as tough as he wanted me to believe.
Time to go inside and get back to work.
Long Hollow 
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