Describing This Evening

Hey guys! I don't know about where you live, but here, this evening has been perfectly gorgeous. I promised to write on this blog about anything that had to do with writing, so I thought I'd put on here an excerpt from a letter I was writing to a friend on the porch. (Describing the evening) I figured that it would put into practice what I talked about last post. (sort of! :)
So here it goes!
"I am now sitting, pretty near perfectly content. The sun is sinking slowly behind the trees and the cool of evening comes softly forward. Many little birds are twittering their goodbyes, save the swallows who are still sweeping the air with their scissor-like wings. The light, now unburdened from the boldest rays of sun has softened the shapes of distant things, and hangs quietly in the sky like an airy wine. All the land is tinged to a pale rose color from its harsher new-plowed tones of brown. From where I sit upon our porch, our garden looks lush and productive, and I forget, temporarily, the potato bugs and bean beetles we must so carefully combat. I am lothe to leave this tranquil, holy, beauty. I imagine evenings in Eden when the Lord walked with Adam and Eve must have looked and felt like this. I am sure these tall pines, pencilled black as they are against the pearlescent mild blue are the finest sort of cathedral one could ask for. ....I am ever more convinced that this country air is the purest I have ever breathed! The purple shadows creep across the fields, and the air moves so sweet and fragrant and pure. There is no breeze at all, and yet I feel the fresh and cool air moving against my skin, and bringing to me all the wholesome smells of grass and flowers and abundant growing things. But I cannot do the Lord's handiwork justice. Oh I would that you could see and hear and smell and feel this evening with me! Perhaps you enjoy this very moment at your own home. But if not, you must be content with as descriptive an account as I can easily muster. I am as one drinking deep draughts of beauty, who cannot bear to tear myself away from the spectacle for one moment. The sun has not set this evening. There was no pomp, no showy colors to the finale of this lovely day. Only a beauty that was more felt and lived then seen. What a gift my God has bestowed upon me, who has tried His grace so many times today. But somehow, my heart is light, and each care has slipped away unperceived as I have sat here worshipping my Creator. I feel I can echo back with the poet: "...The hillside's dew-pearled,
God's in his Heaven,
All's right with the world."
If this letter is rambling, it is only because I have little patience for trivial, daily things after experiencing the close of this day. Which makes it hard to go inside and vacuum prosaicly as I am now called to do. The whippoorwills are beginning! But I now leave."

Okay. So I think I wore out adjectives, and the vacuuming line at the end was not in good taste, but I wrote this without editing, so there you have it! I like writing letters full of description, even if it may be a tad bit dull to read! (I hope not though! :) Whaddya' think? -Rachel