There is a magical time between evening and night when the last hint of daylight melts from pale turquoise to deep azure blue, and the trees are but silhouettes against the fading horizon. The meadowlark’s song fades into the darkness and nighthawks claim the sky. The cool evening breeze is heavy with the scent of apple blossoms and fresh cut hay, and the first stars sneak into the darkness; sparkling like sequins on a black velvet gown.
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