August, 6:30 in the evening in Colorado. The desert is drowsy, the light through the window is sepia rose. I can hear cheerful birds outside over the sound of cars on the street. I wish I had my own yard, I'd have birdfeeders everywhere. I want to experience what Doug Fine is talking about, a man in tune enough with his ecosystem that his neighborhood's hummingbirds are his alarm clock. I went to his book signing at The Tattered Cover a couple of nights ago and just started reading his latest, Too High to Fail. And now I have a bit of a crush.
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