elizabethlevett

“Not the light of any evening but the light of this evening.” Thomas Clark

The very best thing about dusk might be that out in the garden everything looks a little purple. Normally my love of purple extends only to eggplants and those early February violets. But just now, it is the light of this evening.

Maybe the best thing is that the air, after the rain, has all the heady fullness of petrichor, of holiness and richness, as if the soil itself is a damp and sleepy animal, a startling tenderness in its innocence.

Or it might be that the cats are very busy and alert, earnestly jumping into the air to catch the small moths and other tiny flying things.

It could be the quiet.

Or the knowing that this time of day is so brief, that very soon it’ll be time to go inside, light the old lamp on the table, and listen to music, goofing off and taking our sweet time getting the house ready for bed.

Perhaps the thing about this evening that makes it stand out is that we’re here for it right now.

Once again. Just now I can’t think of anything else that matters.