Tonite is one of those evenings when the veil that is between the worlds seems translucent. As the sky streaks with pinks, reds, mauves, lavenders, greys and dark blues a thin whisp of a moon shines down. This is a nite where the stars seem to come down from the heavens to blink and dance above the corn fields with green and yellow flashes. Where the robin chorus echoed all day gives way to the evening symphony of crickets, frogs, and that particular sound of complete stillness that only can be heard when the breeze abdicates its control. This is a nite when you can practically taste the air: the moist scent of saturated black, loam; the sweet suttle scent of young corn stalks. All of this plays together to facilitate the spirits recognition of the deeper, further, upwards, beyond, eternal.