Dusk percolates into darkness.

Early spring in the Northwest, the ground a sodden mess, but this evening the rain has ceased. Stifled by too many hours inside, under lamps, I switch off the radio which has been keeping me company, my elbows stiff from bending over papers I’m grading.

Stretch and listen. Silence does not greet me. I am assaulted by frogs, the clang and bong of their night longing loud enough to hear with the windows closed.

I know you may not believe me.

Inspired by their desire, I turn aside, open jars of tomatoes. Crush garlic, chop basil. Put a large pan on to boil. We will eat well tonight.