The call of home

Since I spotted the bats I’ve made it a habit to head out into the garden at dusk to see if I can catch a glimpse. Even if I don’t see them it’s lovely to sit out amongst the cooling foliage as the light seeps out of the sky. The bats weren’t about this evening but an enormous sickle moon hung low in the sky. Plants in the garden were silhouetted in dark green curling tendrils against its hazy glow. In the still evening, a car revved along the street with the stereo thumping and suddenly I became aware of a cacophany of human noises. The traffic on the main road, voices from an open window, the thrip-thrip of a helicoptor. The world seemed full of noisy people and they all felt startlingly close. Just at that moment I longed to be back on the farm in the quiet soft dark of a Scottish evening in the Borders.

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