On the Deck in Early October

I sat on my deck for a while after dark this evening, needing nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts to be comfortable. This kind of night will go away soon, not to be experienced again hereabouts for months and months. Our backyard honey locust tree, which still has all its leaves, swished in the wind, and the lesser plants near the deck did their dance too. There’s been no frost yet, but lots of rain, so the foliage is nearly as dense as in high summer.

Gibbous and white, the Moon peaked out only a little from behind the tree. Harvest moon on the way, as if I know anything about harvesting. But I like named full moons. Unlike last night, tonight is clear, and a handful of stars are also visible from the deck through the suburban haze.

The crickets aren’t as loud as they were a few months ago, but they’re still singing. Among the cricketsong is also the click-click-click of a different bug, cicadas I think. Are any among them singing that the doom of winter is nigh? No, I refuse to anthropomorphize insects, though Hollywood animators have discovered box office revenue in it.

I could hear traffic too. Ideally, I’d be a few more miles away from that major suburban thoroughfare, but if I watch the individual vehicles off in the distance (we’re not too close), I can appreciate the noise as more than rumble. Each car and truck, lights glowing, going somewhere for some reason. A couple of times I could even hear a dull thump-thumb-thumb of a bass line coming from a car stereo system whose owner is risking deafness later in life.