If I close my eyes I can hear geese and ducks making small talk on the water. If i don't have to close the window for the sake of cold, I think I could listen all night to their chatter. What are they talking about? Joy in the full moon? Preparations for the great flight? Delighting in the last warm night for a while, perhaps? I can't see them because my light dims my eyes sensitivity to moonlight, and their silhouettes get lost to the ripples of the lake.
I turned off the light in hopes of being able to write in moonlight alone, but alas it won't work. The lines on the page are rendered invisible by its blue glow. It is a perfect evening for listening and the sounds fill the cabin. A squirrel clumsily thrashing through the bushes. A steady hum of crickets. The gentle lap of water slapping rock. Over the lake, laughter is carried from a distant party to my ears.
I revel in nights like this and wish my own house was as open to nature as this cabin is. The room I sleep in the cabin is really the living room with several extra beds in it. The beauty of that is the side walls of the room are nearly all windows. I purposely take the bed aligned with the sunrise so it wakes me up with it every time I stay there.
Warm sun on my cheeks is one of the most pleasant wake up calls I've ever received.
