At The End Of The Day...

The sun slips slowly below the western horizon. The sky dims from a rich cerulean, toward indigo and then black. Wispy clouds paint it yellow and orange, before fading to gray. The moon is poised in the east, waiting for its moment to rise.

 The cicadas start up their nightly chorus. A low hum that rises and falls, punctuated by the challenges of the frogs.  Their peeps and croaks starting slowly at one end of the of the ditch, rising to a near deafening cacophony as more join in the skirmish, before quietly fading in the other direction, the sound marching off to other ponds and mudholes in the approaching dark.  

  A single whippoorwill calls out his territory way out in the park.  No one answers him this time.  They're almost done for the season.   They start calling in February and continue through July, though once I heard one in August.

  No sign of the owl or coyotes in the park this evening… so far. Perhaps they, too, are done for the season. There is a dog backing in the distance.  No one answer him either.

  It is humid, though there has been no rain today.   You don't need rain any day for it to feel like a sauna.  Not that we haven't had our share this month.  The lawn is actually greening up, in stead of browning while waiting for the summer storms to start.  This year they have started early.  There is water to spare.  At least here.  

  In the morning the process will reverse itself.  The sky will brighten, the frogs and cicadas will slowly quiet and the whippoorwill will settle down for his daily nap.  Perhaps we'll get rain.  Come sunset, it will begin again, as twilight passes and night falls across the land.

  Such is a late July evening in Florida at the end of the day.