TheBanyanTree: Dusk

[Margaret R. Kramer]

In October, there are no extra daylight hours to go for walks in the
evenings.  The autumn nights move in quickly.  But there is a pause for a
few moments before it gets dark and that is dusk.

Summer dusks stretch on for hours, reluctantly giving way to nightfall.  But
autumn dusks move a little faster, and if I’m not paying attention, I’ll
miss them.

The wind dies down.  The leaves in the trees stop rustling.  The neighbors
are in their houses.  Night time silence is settling in.  If a squirrel or a
bird race across the yard, I’ll be able to hear them crunching over the
leaves.

When the dogs are done eating their dinner, I let them outside.  If it’s
nice, I’ll go out in the yard with them.

I’ll go on our deck that sits under the oaks in the middle of the yard.  I
can see my feeders from here.  I think I’m camouflaged, because the birds
don’t move from the feeders.

I lean against the railing and watch the male and female cardinal take turns
at the feeder in the back of the yard.  The fading light makes them
difficult to spot, but their little chirps always give them away.

Sometimes a few finches, now losing their gold, and fading into winter
browns, will be at the niger seed feeder, grabbing a last meal before
heading off to bed.

Mourning doves graze underneath the niger feeder.  They’ll stay there until
well after dark.  I’ll see their gray bodies moving among the leaves if I
happen to turn on the yard light.

I catch a whiff of someone’s fireplace smoke or perhaps someone is burning
leaves in a fire pit.  I love that woodsy, smoky smell.  It brings back
memories of when my dad would burn leaves.  Or when I was a kid back in the
days when we could burn our own trash, I would set our trash on fire in a
large metal drum.  Then I would stand back and watch the flames flicker in
the darkening sky.

Orange and red hues streak overhead.  And behind the colors is the black of
night.

The dogs are done, so we go into the house.

Later, from my office window, I see a large dark shadow in the back of the
yard.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness outside, I see it’s a doe nuzzling
the bird feeder, looking for a free and easy meal.  She must have heard me
move towards the window.  She looks up suddenly and stretches her long,
limber legs over the back fence and a disappears between the houses.

Dusk has turned into night.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
Be a star!

http://www.skywaybpw.org
Skyway Business and Professional Women
Working women connecting.

http://www.bpwmn.org
Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

For myself I am an optimist - it does not seem to be much use being anything
else.

Sir Winston Churchill