I think I get more done staring into a campfire than into a television screen.
An owl in the distance seems to agree.
Colors fade as darkness settles, and bats take to the air eating acrobatically above the house.
The owl calls again.
The fire fades to embers, but they glow long enough.
Cool air flows down the hill, through the forest, across my bare arms, and around our house. The fire's glowing embers feel good and I lean in.
The stars begin to appear, and the fireflies join them dancing high in the trees.
The owl calls again. And peace settles upon our house like spoken words of blessing.
Peace. Peace, be still. The day is at rest.