In summer, the sun doesn’t go down until nearly 9:00. That means for me to be able to walk in the cool dusk, I need to go out walking later than Grandpa Nelson or Auntie Bridgett want to.
And that’s okay. Walking by myself is one of my favorite things. Being able to stop and stare at a leaf or a bit of moss, or talk to the cats or chickens, without making someone wait on me, is a delight.
Last evening, after we were all in pajamas, I caught a glimpse of the orange sky and put my clothes back on. I wanted to feel the change from day to night, to see the back-lit trees turn to silhouettes. So I went.
I headed to Laurelhurst Park, where hundreds of folks sat scattered through the 26 acres, on blankets or low chairs, chatting, eating, watching their kids and dogs play.
The setting sun lit up the treetops and cast long, cool shadows. Our street became a leafy tunnel leading to the last light. I was glad I had come out.