I'm trying something new this evening. I'm writing outside. I typically write in the recliner in front of the TV with Gail by my side in her recliner. The TV is irrelevant and Gail is the reason. Tonight she's at a meeting and the Olympics on TV are routine.
The weather is mild; was hot earlier today, near 90˚F but now it's dark, the heat of the direct sun is gone and number-wise it's about 70. Perfect.
Much of my inspiration for writing comes from what I experience outdoors. Yet, when I walk through the front door, so much is filtered out; I hardly can express what I was feeling. So tonight I'm outside. It's basically dark but the computer keyboard and screen are lit up so lighting isn't an issue. The moon is nearly full, to a novice it might be considered full. However, it's on the other side of the leaves of the trees under which I am sitting.
It's not quiet. The frogs are singing loudly to my right where the pond and small stream lie. Either one is very vocal or there's a chorus because the song in almost one continuous note. To my left the water is tumbling into the fish pond; what a soothing sound, the flow of water. The breeze, if any, I didn't feel but the wind chimes hanging overhead are periodically added a soft note to the evening. I'm ignoring the tapping on the keyboard, it doesn't belong here.
The air is so clear and clean. As I glance up at the moon getting but a glimpse through the leaves, there's no fog, no haze, no smoke, no smog; just fresh crisp air. The cooling effect of the evening reaches under my shirt and glances off my forehead. All this tells me how great it is to be alive in God's creation.
Alas, the sound have changed as the crisp air allows sounds from afar. The plane flies overhead, a dog barks in the far distance, footprints of our dog come near, the tree rustle from a brief air movement. Now again it's only the water and frogs.
This works, this outside experiment. I will do it another time.