This was some kind of evening. Nothing planned. A jeans
kind of night. Maybe a glass of wine after dinner and then just
step out on the deck for some fresh air.
Ah, but the stars were bright in the black sky,
erupting from between the corridors of trees. From inside the cabin,
I could hear jazz from the radio, vintage jazz--Coltrane, I think,
or Miles Davis--and the cicadas clicking all around. It was a fine
feeling.
