Dusk happens suddenly these days. I walk up the hill after the late school bus comes through Avalanche. The woods is settling down, a few birds call, a cardinal chip-chip-chips. Two deer run across the road in front of me, their white tails flagging. There is a bow hunter in the woods.
My bench cushions are woven and shipped now. Still some pillows to make and sew together tomorrow. But now, there are a few of my Hen-of-the-Woods mushrooms leftover, and some red wine, suppertime.