The waxing moon wears sheer, translucent veils. Their glow softens the silhouettes of the pines. Day ended as it began, a sky tinged by swaths of pink, a piping of small birds, but the evening is warm, and the darkness wrapping fields and woods deepens. The crickets have been joined by the first of those late-summer insects whose sounds are a constant, shrill buzz. By September, the night air will vibrate, dusk till dawn. Then will come the clatter of falling acorns. The heaviness of tonight's air makes me anticipate the autumnal rains which may or may not come. I hope this is not one of those years when they are delayed until winter. The scents of autumn are so much more delightfully pungent when stimulated by October showers.