Duncan and I ventured out after the sun had set and the sky had turned ocean-dark and the clouds rippled across its vast expanse like waves rolling toward the moon. The night was almost quiet, its stillness broken only by the sharp crack of ball and bat from the baseball fields across the street and the soft buzz and hum of the cheering crowd. It was a perfect night for walking, a lazy walk, an admire-the-moon or wish-upon-a-star kind of walk. The moon, still low in the west was half obscured by the clouds and rose tenderly over them, casting her glow across their long tendrils, a golden streak that smudged the night far to the south. While Duncan sniffed for the baby bunnies which have sprung up all over the place and sit in the shadows of the tall grass like large furry Brussels Sprouts, I turned my head back and breathed in the not-so-distant scent of Summer rising up from the heat of the parking lot and the grass--already in need of another trim--all around us. I'd donned my flip flops and the cool blades felt good against my warm feet, which felt tight and unnatural, like bread left out too long. But it felt good to be out with him, shuffling alongside me, the two of us sauntering through the grass, wrapped up in the quiet, less spectacular side of Spring, taking as much, if not more, than the day has to offer.
*Because I can't take a picture of the moon, this image courtesy of spacew.com