March 12th, 2017

caillebotte_man at his window


The big moon, having risen into the clear part of the sky, makes the lone streetlight on the next block and the back porch light of the house across the alley seem small and dim. the beam of my flashlight is paled almost to invisibility on the moonlit ground. The frogs are croaking loudly, and mingled with their chorus is the chirp of single night bird I can't identify.

The cool air smells of spring. Buds are beginning to appear on the walnut and mulberry trees, but none of the oaks has yet shown signs of leafing out. Any day now I'm sure they will. I'm thinking of that pale green they'll have, so much lighter than the dense green of the sprouting grass.

There won't be many more mornings this season like today's was, with wood smoke flowing from chimneys and hazing the air and scenting it with its acrid harshness. Winter is on the wane. The vernal equinox is little more than a week away. As reminders, three camellias are pressed against my window screen, and dozens more are ready to bloom. I left the windows open all afternoon, and didn't close them until six o'clock. Tonight neither of the feral cats are in the back yard. They must be off exploring, enjoying the mild, bright night. I think I'll go out and enjoy it for a while myself.

Collapse )