The heat of the day weighs heavy, humidity settling on me like a thick blanket I long to toss off. There isn't a breath of breeze to be found outside, but I stay on the patio anyway, longing for the fans on the other side of the screen door. It's late. I've been up since four, when the baby woke. I was able to see the pink of sunrise just before the giant ball cleared the horizon. I should be in bed, but I'm waiting, watching the horizon at eleven for that same pink, that beautiful stretch of pastels across the bottom of the hazy clouds.
Summer days are long, but that just makes the sunset more precious.
I'm not far enough north for there to be NO night, but it's definitely brief.