A break from vacation

This blog is on vacation, officially.

Unofficially, this blog would be remiss in not taking note of the best holiday display in the neighborhood, which on a clear day (at least in Pittsburgh) after Christmas, put all puny yard-light displays to shame.

I'm in a rare position of, for a short week at least, having no dog-walking responsibilities. So it was a real treat to take a "me" walk around the block on Dec. 26. The crescent moon floated low in the western sky, resting elegantly behind branches of bare trees, in a deep blue-black dusk.
There was a star or planet to the moon's left. I can't describe how lovely this sky was, except to say, lamely, that it took my breath away.

All Christmas decorations ... go away. You cannot compete.

Monday's clear skies gave way to a soggy Tuesday of unrelenting rain. I went out at around 1 p.m. to run errands, umbrella in hand. Here's what the world looked like, with Mount Washington (way in the background, seen from Stanwix Street) fogged in.

Around the block

Late Monday night, after a late dinner.

I can't go to bed on a full stomach and it's a perfectly cool and lovely night for a walk. Around the block I go.

Starting with a pink hoodie around my shoulders, ending with the hoodie wrapped around my waist in the perfectly lovely, cool summer night.

Cicadas and crickets chirping and thrumming and an ethereal crescent moon, Mars red, sliding down out of my view behind trees, teasing me with its sublime shape and color, in the northwestern sky. I am so distracted by the mystery of it that the night's constellations elude my gaze entirely.

Around the block. There is a home that recently sold that has a stunning elm tree in the front yard; it's dripline must be at least 100 feet in diameter. To even be in this tree's vicinity, in full summer leaf, is to feel as if you are under the roof of a church. The real estate sign is gone, windows open to show bare rooms and as I walk past, I hope to myself that the new owners will keep the tree, not cut it down.

Home again and the dogs and I go out. 10 p.m. Time for bed. The best part of late summer is being sung to sleep by the insects, cooled by the fresh air, sheltered by the night's stars.

In fact, I think night time is the best part of late summer days.