What the eye don't see

There's an old Southern expression that runs along the lines of, "What the eye don't see, the heart don't need to grieve after," or words to that effect. It means that if you don't know about it, you needn't worry about it too much, and it dances through my mind now and then. You may know it. If you have ever taken a piece of otherwise perfectly lovely cheese out of your fridge, found and removed a spot of mold and then sliced and served the rest of it without a word to your family, it may seem a familiar refrain to you. The old Southern form of the words may be new, but they fit the melody.

But then there's what the eye DO see.

Tonight I have no photo for you with this post because I have the negative image in mind, which is all about what the eye does see, and how impossible it is for me to capture it as an image. The weather has cleared after several days of gloomy rain and begins to promise cool evenings and the dazzling bright blue skies of October. Tomorrow is likely to be gorgeous. Tonight the blue black velvet sky is rolled out like and endless furl of antique French silk ribbon, winking with tiny, perfect diamonds that shimmer across the great expanse. Above our little house, those diamonds wink and glitter coquettishly through the yards of Spanish moss, now visible, now gone, tempting and just beyond reach: impossible to photograph. But, oh, the eye can see them, my loves. The eye can see them with a perfection that no words can approach.

I hope your sky is clear and inky black and glitters with distant suns, however far from home or closely nestled under your eaves you may be. Good night, my dears.