Just then, the night sky hour exchanged color, the convergence of the bedding, soft and gentle fold, crouching in the cool air.

It was a blistering 99 degrees in Florida, but the air-conditioned glass provided my flushed cheek with instant relief.

Abrams Creek was running clear and cool, shaded by tulip poplars, pawpaws, and pines, on the day I belly flopped in with Shute and Rakes last fall.