Yesterday the evening here on the mountain was as close to perfect as anyone could ask for. Humidity was low, the air warm but not oppressive. As shadows lengthen earlier now than they have in months, evening walks must also come earlier.
Walks are more pleasant than they have been for a while. Mosquitoes prefer the heavier air of midsummer, not this fresher breeze that comes from the north. Even the cicada’s song is diminishing now, so the evenings are quiet or nearly so. Titmice and chickadees skip through the trees, landing every few feet and then moving off again. Perhaps they rest momentarily, perhaps they are simply checking the flight path ahead before heading into it.
The light turns golden as the sun nears the mountains to the west. A deer startles, flags her tail and trots off deeper into the underbrush, until all I can see of her is her tail. The light starts to fade, earlier than I am used to, earlier than I expect. It’s time to ramble back towards the cabin, though I am in no hurry.