The scent of darkness

Just before the dark.

Have you ever noticed how when you walk in the dark, your other senses are heightened?  Sight isn't very useful, but suddenly hearing and smell are extra-sensitive.

I went for a walk this evening.  Just at the end of dusk, when the sunset was still a faint glow in the west.  It's a well-lighted neighbourhood, safe enough to walk alone but dark enough to make one feel isolated.  A glorious loneliness.

And the scents.  A whiff of cigar smoke.  Somebody's lawn, freshly mown.  Somebody's lawn, overgrown and full of the fragrance of clover.  From somewhere hidden, the sharp sweet scent of roses.    A bright, herby smell, and from across the street, whiffs from a kitchen.

And then the sounds.   The constant hum of crickets and cicadas.  The occasional croak of a frog.  Somewhere far away, the slam of a car door.  The whir of a bat, not far overhead.  Everywhere the whisper of evening breeze.

The world is so beautiful, even in the darkness.