Dusk is my favorite time of day. The sky is at its most beautiful, and the warm embrace of darkness has just begun creeping on while the dying fire of the sun burns an impossible red at the edge of the horizon, conceding to the deep blue of the sky above. With the sun just barely tucked away under the mountains on the far west side of the valley, the sky becomes an enormous rainbow across the earth. There is still enough light to see well, but it isn’t too harsh, and the summer heat recedes to a pleasant coolness that doesn’t quite bite.

I had a beautiful evening walk tonight. It’s so good to get outside and experience the touch of the earth. It’s both an unfathomable privilege and a deep need to hear the sighs of wind caressing the trees, knocking their soft leaves together—to feel the moonlight tremble across your skin, to watch the light of the cities in the valley glimmer against the darkness of the shadows.

Just before nightfall, I stood at the mouth of a crosswalk, staring out over the horizon. The very edge of the sky was soaked in a deep red like blood that reflected off the slim shallows of the lake in a lighter shade. A flicker of motion over the soccer field caught my eye—a bat. Then three more. I stood there for several minutes watching the flock of bats dance around the early night sky in their erratic, dizzying circles. Their strange clicking filled the emptiness of the night between the hum of passing cars. I stood, watching them fly over and around my head, back across the street, and over the field until the deep ocean blue of night threatened to overcome the rest of the sky.

I continued walking up the hill under the protective gaze of the moon. I stared up at her every chance I got, as if an invisible hand were tilting my chin up to meet her eye. Just before I made it to my street, a large patch of the sidewalk was shimmering in the moonlight, wet from the sprinklers in front of someone’s yard. I began to walk through at the same pace, welcoming the small drops of cool water against the summer heat. But when I was about two-thirds of the way through the streams, I was more soaked than I bargained for and ran the rest of the way through to get out as quickly as possible. Water droplets obscured the left lens of my glasses, turning into strange silver glitter when I looked back up at the moon. I followed the moon the rest of the way home, so drawn by her call that I nearly walked past my house. Finally, I turned at the very edge of the driveway and followed the concrete steps down into the darkness toward my front door.