City Night

I don’t hate procrastination, in fact I’m grateful for it. Like many other rural residents, evening barn chores can become a drag-your-feet event. Not that I don’t love my goats, but after a long day motivation to go out to the barn for milking number two doesn’t hold the same appeal as it did in the morning. Anyhow, many nights I put off the chore that would have been more easily done in the daylight hours. And because of this procrastination caused exposure I began love the night.

I miss nights in the country. Compression breaks and sirens have now replaced the sounds of cows lowing. The train has taken the place of the local coyotes. And light pollution extends to nearly every nook and cranny making any observation of the cosmos difficult. But some aspects of the city’s night are still familiar. During the occasional lull in traffic I can hear the distant sound of crickets. I sit at my window and look out at my wonderful parking lot view. I can see the recognizable silhouettes of trees. Tonight the wind is blowing away so the smell of garbage from the nearby dumpster doesn’t overwhelm me and I can fully appreciate the scent of the night. It isn’t fragrant with the smell of drying hay and ripening fruit but it does smell surprisingly clean. I sit inhaling the comforting smell and thank my lucky stars (or star in this case because I can only see one) that procrastination has led me to both love the night and to write about it.