I feel strange always babbling incessantly about how glorious the weather is, but it always effects me in the strangest way. Stepping out onto the porch, I sat down in a rocker with my hot cocoa and breathed in the clean night air. The heat of the day had given way to a cool sixty-five degrees, and frogs and crickets sang somewhere in the distance. The smell of damp hay recalled everything I hold dear, and tall trees stood silvery in the moonlight. Some nights are simply perfection. The quiet stillness of this place holds a peace I had forgotten after the busy intersection outside Apartment A.
The weekend has been kind, but I feel that it is time to retire. I think I will have pleasant dreams tonight...
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