Last night, sleepless, I went out to stand under the stars, the long wash of the Milky Way. It was quiet, so quiet I could almost hear the music of the constellations. The grape leaves were cool on the railings and I could smell the sharp scent of ripening tomatoes. When a star fell in the northern part of the sky, I almost forgot to make a wish. Almost. Returning to bed, I carried stardust on my shoulders. In Egmont the other evening, I looked down from the ramp after looking at boats with my grandchildren and two stars were looking back at me. I am a little lost these days, my heart in tatters. “And every star, like a lantern,” wrote Emily Dickinson. Twice this week I’ve hoped for directions, once from the sky, once from water.
...Theresa Kishkan 
Do you need to bundle up to go out at night like that, this time of year? I know you’re near the water and, of course, waaaaay on the other side of the mountains between us, so I imagine it could be a little nippy after dark and under starlight.
The days have been so hot that I love to stand out in the darkness in a light nightdress. I don’t mind being cool!
Ahhhh, it’s the same here. but we had a dip to 14 overnight about a week ago, so I wondered if you might have hauled a quilt along with you. I love the smell of tomatoes!