The close of another full and fabulous day at the ranch brought a flame hued glow to the hillside. Paul and I sat by the campfire, after hotdogs and s’mores had been consumed, as the light dwindled into the darkness of countryside, lit from the north by the unnatural blinking white lights of the Coronado Generating Station. The muted sounds of the children’s voices up the hill in the cabin rose and fell as they gradually ran through the last of their sugar energy, while we enjoyed a few moments of quiet conversation before moving our chairs away from the embers and heading up to an early bedtime. It’s always odd, waking and sleeping according to daylight hours up there. Without electricity, when the sun goes down, we all go to our rest.
