Today was a beautiful day, sunny and mild. I took the dog for a walk at 8 pm not, no jacket, because it was still warm enough to enjoy the stroll without one. The night was breezy and the moon was bright, almost full. The street lights shine then dim out all along our street, and at the end of the street where the trail goes up into the hills, it gets dark. I could see the moon shining on the light stucco walls of the houses on the hill above me. There were a few stars twinkling, their intensity dimmed by the moon's glow on the rabbit brush covered hills. I love how expansive everything feels, I love how the treetops blow in the breeze, the moonlight makes it all seem exciting. And there was a scent in the air of backyard BBQs, so it felt like it could be a night in August. August and October have always seemed the two months that are the farthest apart, but in northern Nevada maybe this is not the case. Leaves start to turn as the August nights cool down, but the sunny days of October keep many trees green for a long time.
My daughter loves the brightness of day, and enjoys the sunrise more than the sunset. And the sunsets though pretty can be melancholy in a way, the sign of another day over and realizing it's time to wind up. But then the nights feel broad and open, like there is a deepness above you. We can come back out in the night and enjoy the soft beauty of it, we can still come together and do things. I sample the fresh air and enjoy the movement of walking with the dog in the dry coolness of it, and I want to write about it, but when I come inside it's closer, warmer, louder, brighter. It all feels so much more compressed and heavy, and there are many sounds and demands on my attention, and I can't think how to write about the outside, the night walk.