Of course it's dark because it's ten o'clock and when I look out my window, I cup my hands and lean into the glass to banish the reflections of my lamps and the TV. I find I am looking into two things that fill me with, well, joy. An evergreen (Thula Green Giant) I planted six years ago, into which I have entwined white twinkle lights. The same lights are around the trunks of a sweet guy tree and a cedar tree about fifteen feet from the house, and I plugged them all in after I mowed the lawn this afternoon.
I look farther, beyond the evergreen and the sweet gum and the cedar to the Leyland cypresses lining the back yard before it gives into the woods. Above the cypresses I think there's still some light left in the sky, a deep indigo, but I realize it's the reflection on the window glass from my blue bedroom. Still quite lovely. I lean into the glass; it's very clean because reflections are one of my favorite things. On the blue walls I have three mirrors, not necessarily from narcissism, but because of the way the mirrors catch the afternoon light in this southern exposure.
I can't see any more but the twinkle lights, but I think if the window were open, I could smell the new-cut grass. As I peer out, the tree frogs start up. After a rain, and it rained last night, they start their serenade. When this happens, I mute the TV or music and listen for as long as they go on. So close, I can tell they are in the Thula Green Giant, and that one is about five feet up while the other close to the ground. They trill back and forth one more vibrant than the other, the one close to the ground sounding as thought it might want to settle in for the night. A good idea, I think, so I pull the sheers over the panes and head back to bed, still listening to the frogs. When I turn my bedside lamp off, I will leave the twinkle lights on so if I wake in the night I'll see a dim glow filling the blue bedroom. Through the WindowLooking at lightDaily PostThrough the Through the Through the #64