I went outside the other evening, leaving the air-conditioned comfort of my living room to take my chances with the Great Outdoors (GO). I planted myself on the front porch swing, started a Spotify playlist called “Evening Acoustic,” picked up my book (Alone by Richard Byrd) and began reading. Funny thing is though, I kept getting interrupted by the GO. First I noticed that it was getting towards sunset – the golden hour for photography. Time to get the camera! Click, click, click, click… 
There, that’s gotten that out of my system, I thought. I picked up the book again. But no, now my ears picked up a conversation that interfered with my ability to concentrate on reading. It began with the susurrus of the wind moving through the tree branches. Then the cicadas, always rude party guests, started in with their whining, punctuated with perfectly timed silences. How do they all know how to start and stop at the same time? Maybe it’s just one really loud cicada?? Back to Richard Byrd and his experiences in the Antartctic. But who can resist a sunset? Byrd would have to wait while I watched the sunset and took a couple more photos.
Finally the sun was below the horizon and I could return by the glow of twilight to good old Richard Byrd. The cicadas had toddled off to bed as soon as the sun went down and had nothing more to say. Something caught my eye, a little twinkle. Fireflies! I was totally captivated by the GO Show at this point and put down the book for good. Bye, bye Byrdie. The wind had picked up and the gentle whisper was now a lively chatter. Our front yard was a field of flickering winged stars. Bats began their crazy flight patterns in search of (and hopefully finding) mosquitos. A lone burst of late fireworks went off over the horizon. One brilliant star crept up into the night sky right behind a tree, so I could only get glimpses now and again as the wind moved the branches. I knew that more of them would appear as the night deepened. As plots go, this was pretty good stuff. This kind of impressive story with well-written dialogue has been going on every day and night, but I’ve been settling for much smaller screens. Back in the day when people weren’t beset by our modern distractions, a keen observer wrote:
The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
Day unto day uttereth speech and night unto night sheweth knowledge.
I’d been schooled by the Master.
Eventually I went back inside, but was haunted by all that I would miss of the ongoing show.
I’ll probably delete this in the morning.
P.S. Full disclosure: I started this essay partly because I finally had an opportunity to use the word “susurrus!” Can you blame me?
Lynniebeemuseoday 