It looked like it might storm tonight, and the humidity was up, but if it did, it did its dance somewhere else... All we got was the thick veil of grey clouds that obscured the sunset and not even a breeze all evening... but it was perfect for going to a park with my guitar.
I ran some errands around suppertime, but didn't have my guitar with me, so I returned home to get it, and ventured up to Norrie Point. ( The other local federally owned estates close the grounds at sunset and with the cloud cover being what it was, it was hard to tell when sunset would occur. Norrie is a state park and the grounds close at dark. )
I drove down by the marina there and parked the car... beside the Hudson River. It had been too long since I had been there, and it was so peaceful that I wished I was camping and could stay all night... It was magical...
The fireflies were dotting the lacy dark woodlands and a streetlamp was glowing almost the same shade of yellow-green over two weathered, wooden, picnic tables on the grassy area there by the parking area. A light glowed out from the window of the old stone bathhouse by the edge of the little lawn, just on the edge of a wooded area, looking like a welcoming cabin in a fairytale.
It was quiet... and I felt such a sence of peace that it is beyond words. No crickets, not a sound... but for the gentle voices of someone on their boat, putting it away for the night, and a train that rushed past, headed north, thundering through along the shore like some big dragon swooping down and then vanishing in the darkness. The stillness that re-emerged seemed even more prevasive than it was before. There was not even the sound of lapping water and the sound of riggings on the boats to break the silence.
It was pleasantly warm. Not a breeze stirred. There was not even the emergence of the coolness from beneath the nearby bushes and trees to lend a gentle wave to the night air. Mother Nature had put her children to sleep early and was dreaming. The evening was sweet and fresh, and PERFECTLY comfortable.
As I took the guitar out of its case and began to play, the tones rose like the silk of a spider spinning a web. It belonged there, as naturally as the call of a night owl. At times they seemed to rise up to the stars that had begun to emerge in a deep blue sky. Occasionally, the barely audible buzz of a mosquito, lingering near me, seemed to hum along.
I thought of the days when I had gone there with my father after a hard day at his work, and of the times when we had launched our boat there for an evening run on the river before dark, with my entire family. It was like visiting with a dear old friend who knew my name and welcomed me to sit at their hearth to tell me stories of long ago.
After perhaps an hour, it had grown dark. Another car came and parked not far from me, and the passengers went off toward the marina. Two men had left not long before, after locking up their kayaks for the night. The sky had turned to a blue-black and the stars were ever brighter. I knew it was time to say good-night, so I meandered my car up the twisty little road through the woods there, out to the 2-lane highway, and headed back to town.
Along the way, I saw a golden-orange glow of a small bonfire dancing in someone's backyard and one lone figure moving beside it. But all the way home there was narray a car on the road. The peace I had felt there seemed to have blanketed the entire town. It was quiet and still as I paused to drop a letter in the mailbox at the historic old post office at the crossroads. Lights from homes glowed, but noone was stirring. After another hot and humid, late July, afternoon the world was enjoying the soothing peace of the comfortable evening... preparing to enter dreamland for the next few hours, until the bright notes of the morning songbirds, and the golden rays of the rising sun awaken them with their kiss, to greet another glorious day.
