It happened again, yesterday.
Seven o’clock softness.
The day had a harshness of heat with enough breezes to make it bearable. Work was accomplished and the day progressed.
Around 7:00 PM it became a little overcast, sort of hazy. The sun was shining behind a light layer of clouds. It wasn’t dreary, yet the glare wasn’t disturbing.
Around seven I walked to the barn to finish mowing the lawn and it was then that I noticed the difference. It’s one of those things you don’t pay attention to until you pay attention.
The subtle differences.
Everything softened. The wind died down, the temperature lowered and peace settled in.
As I walked through the barn even the BEBs seemed to notice. They were enjoying the laziness of laying in groups, just hanging out together. No gates clanging as in the morning while they were shuffled from one side of the pen to the other in order to clean the alleys.
The cats were clumped together. Some bathing, others dozing, a relaxed group of felines.
The softness permeated the smells. The sweet smell of milk from the parlor, mixed with country air. It’s hard to describe the smell of corn fields. It’s not like fresh mown hay that has a specific odor.
The softness calls you to the front porch to sit and watch as the kids play in the yard. The grass tickles the feet and the laughter is muffled in the gentleness of the hour.
I’m not sure what happens in the city where there are no corn fields or BEBs. I am blessed to have been planted here in the countryside. You really need to find a quiet dirt road or open field to encounter this phenomenon.
With the seven o’clock softness your senses relax and you notice the variation of smells, the feel of cool and warm air pockets as you saunter. And, saunter is what you want to do. Slow down, see, feel, and smell that the Lord is good and let his handiwork wrap itself around you.
