It’s quiet. My evening’s entertainment is spicing up some apple cider, watching flames dance and, of course, looping and pulling some super-luxe-squishy-cozy yarn. Truthfully though, this quiet is intense. I forgot how quiet country-quiet can be. The inverse is also true. Country-loud is also a thing. But tonight, it’s all the way country-quiet. And it was perfect for my contemplative mindset. Until the country-quiet was interrupted by a snapped twig or crunching leaves. Or something. Thoughts race. “what-ifs…” swirl with “what the heck was that?” and “pfffft… it’s nothing.” Childhood fears battling childhood bravery… “Pfffft it’s nothing” won out but I did move my crochet to a room without picture windows and Apple Music is now shuffling through my library. Music cancels out country-quiet and snapped twigs and crunching leaves and what-ifs 
