This evening, while finishing up the chores around the homestead, I was overcome. The crescent moon was setting in the western sky, my only light. The silhouettes of dining bats and the dark forest swaying in the warm breeze played against the fading indigo sky. The scent of a highbush cranberry in full bloom was carried on the wind. The white lambs were still quite visible in the dusk, bounding for the sheer joy of being alive. The first lightning bugs rising up out of the grass flickered here and there and I felt a wave of peacefulness fill me up. I hesitated to move, knowing the moment would end. But as I entered my lovely cabin, I was greeted by the music of Beth Orton, a glass of mango mead, children reading books on the couch, and the smell of butter, garlic, and asparagus. I am just so thankful.