Walden

Walden was originally composed during the summer of 2011. I was still living in Arizona at the time, and in an attempt to beat the blistering July heat, I somehow convinced myself to stay up all night long and sleep the summer days away. At around 10:00 P.M., I would start my day, composing undisturbed. Although it only lasted a few weeks, it was one of the most serene and magical times of my creative life.

Every morning after writing, around five o’clock, I would walk to Kiwanis Lake, a little man-made oasis in the middle of my neighborhood. It was still dark out, and the mist from freshly sprinklered lawns provided a much-needed coolness to the morning air. As the sunrise warmed the dark blue sky with oranges and pinks, the first quacks from sleepy-eyed ducks signaled the park was open for business. Lawn mowers soon revved up, cars buzzed by, and the rest of world woke up.

It was inspiring to watch nature transform from a great stillness to a menagerie full of life and sounds and color and motion. I was transported. For half an hour each morning, I could pretend that I was anywhere except the hot Arizona desert, wandering somewhere in the deep lushness of New England, staring out towards a gentle pond that I’ve only read about in books.