Now, if that ain't a purty sky! I'm right proud you brung me up to your porch to see it tonight. Now that they've gone and run the time forward on us, the evening seems terrible long.
Look there how the sun lays along the valley betwixt here and the Blue Ridge -- ain't that a picture?
You uns must have some fine sunrises up here -- but this last light of day in the east is . . . well . . . now you'll likely think me foolish but it puts me in mind of how this life of ourn is . . . our early morning passes by in a rush and at midday there's light everwheres so we don't pay it no mind, but then as the evening comes with the dark drawing in, those last little bits of light seems all the more precious for being in the midst of the shadows . . .
Aw, shucks, listen to me going on like a preacher when the light out there is better than any sermon. Look how it darts about . . . lighting up over yon to the south . . . just a-glowing like a fire . . .
Now it moves back thisaway. If that ain't a sight on earth! And now it's caught in that little bowl, just brimming and glowing . . .
And now it's starting to fade away . . . Well, Lizzie Beth, I best be getting on back home. It's an hour later than it ought to be but me and the chickens both go to bed when it gets dark, everwhat the clock says. And you pay no mind to my ramblings -- I'm always bad to get a little giddy when Spring's on the way.
