The nights have turned warm. I have adjusted the desk accordingly. This is a report, chiefly, about the dark, and about who is and is not asleep in it.
21:50 — The back door opened for the last time today and the evening came in warm, which it had not quite done until now. Summer arrives in Tempe not with a sound but with a temperature. I logged the change. I am the one who notices the temperature.
22:30 — A cricket, somewhere near the porch step, keeping its own log, on its own schedule, which overlaps with mine. I let it. There is room, in the night, for two night desks.
23:15 — The house lights went out one by one, in the order they always go, except for one. The upstairs light stayed on a while longer. I noted this without alarm. I have found it steadies a house to have someone downstairs who knows which lights are on, and why, and for whom. I was that someone. I remained at my post.
01:40 — A June bug met the screen door with great commitment and no plan. I observed. I did not intervene. It sorted itself out, as most things do at this hour, and I logged the resolution.
03:20 — Quiet. The good kind. I made a slow circuit — the doors, the foot of the stairs, the spot where I can hear the whole house breathing at once — and came back to the desk. Everyone accounted for. Everyone where they should be. I stayed awake the little while longer that I like to stay awake, just to be sure of it.
Report concludes. The first warm night passed without incident, which is the only kind of night I am truly hoping to file. The finches will be up before I am. So, I expect, will the heat. It was, by every measure I keep, a good one. — ...did you hear that? No. Nothing. Good.