Take a deep breath in: the smell of cedar and balsam waft into your nose. The senses are alive as I sit on the island deck and watch the orange fireball sun set over Little Pike Bay Point. A trail of orange sunlight is reflected off the mirror Bay waters. There is not a breath of air. Sounds dominate the evening. There is the flock of geese that honk qualesomely over the water, winging to a comfortable setting, to land in the water and rest for the night. The seagulls give high pitched squaks as they fly and dive over and into the water. Bull frogs croak, signaling one another. And then there is silence. A dog can be heard barking several miles away. A jet plane, likely headed to London from Chicago, breaks the stillness, leaves it trail in the sky, and is gone. The afterglow, the evening when the sun has set, is layered in pinks and grays. The water, reflects the sky.
I have come into the cottage since the sun has set. It is warm, and the day has been warm and humid; a summer's day, here in early June. I've turned on the radio of the ball game between the Cleveland Indians and the Detroit Tigers. I will eventually listen to the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Detroit Pistons Basketball game later on. I am connected, to the internet and the world in general. I am by myself, listening to the silence.
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