Bewitching

Since I have lived in this house (17 years this summer), I have never had a backyard neighbor. The house on the adjacent lot stands empty, neglected. Upon occasion one can talk oneself into seeing lights at night there, shadows on the blue snow, moving images and shapes, signs of life, but not really, because, unless one is under a martini haze, there is no life there. The house is truly deserted.

In the morning, of course, it is obvious that any noises or dancing shadows from the night were all in one’s head. Add a pinkish orange morning tint to the scene and you’ll have a house that is truly bewitching, if not bewitched. I’m looking at it now as I work away at the kitchen table. So tranquil, so pretty! So deserted.