the afterglow

Since Lucas has been living in Sandwich for the last few months, once or twice a week I end up driving out there so that we can see each other, which is a long haul but very worthwhile. One of the best parts about driving to Sandwich, though, is that it feels like driving out in the middle of nowhere--country roads hemmed in by cornfields, scattered houses, the occasional stop sign. All these things remind me of being back in central Illinois, where I grew up. My parents' house edges right up against a field, alternating between corn and soybeans, and driving out straight west from there house takes you deep into the heart of the stereotypical Midwest.

I love it.

I love driving out there at dusk, stopping the car, and looking at the glowing world. I think dusk may just be my favorite time of day, as the sun drifts below the horizon, leaving behind a spectacle of colors, bordering at times on brilliant. In the afterglow of the sunset, the tiny lights of evening poke their heads, and out in the country, away from the city lights that glare orange against the sky, you can see them all, tiny glowing points, sparkles, glitter against the night. One of my favorite high school activities was driving out to the middle of the fields and then lying on the hood of the car to take in the vast blackness scattered with stars. Where there are no city lights, the stars seem to multiply, and constellations pop out of nowhere. My dad and I spent one summer trying to memorize as many as we could, and I still have a few favorites that I can point out if it's dark enough to see them.

The other glow that creeps up in the summer over the fields is the lightning bugs. They may be the only tolerable kind of bug, mainly because they don't bite but also because they seem to float in a kind of magical glow over the corn fields, giving off an aura of pixie dust and magic. There is a sweet smell in the air--the scent of crops and humidity and sweat and earth, tinged with the coolness of evening--that I love to breathe deep. I can't get enough of it in the all-too-short summer months.

It's worth reveling in the summer afterglow. It never stays long enough to satisfy me, but maybe that's what makes it so delightful.