We go to bed early, the windows thrust open to let in the night music: cicadas, frogs, the distant war-call of coyotes and foxes. Because we live at the end of the road, at the end of the world, we hear it all. Our bed is pushed up to the large window, so we balance on our knees (like children) and crane our necks, heads tilted upward at the stars. No other lights for miles around.
A howl bursts through the edge of the woods and we jump. Then giggle. Then sit back and just look. Continue reading “Big and Small”