Tree Frogs and Beer

Two and a half weeks after knee surgery, I am back to work. I tossed and turned during the night concerned about taking on a twelve-hour shift. The following morning, I clocked in and made my appearance at the water treatment plant. My co-workers and boss were happy to see me and I have to admit, I was glad to be back. I took it slow, not wanting to slip on wet areas in the plant and trying to climb the stairs one step at a time. The day went on with little incident, but by the end of it, I was ready to get home and put an ice pack on my knee. I was surprised when I woke up the next morning without hobbling too much down the stairs.
I still have stiffness in the knee, that, my doctor told me will be there always and I will experience pain due to arthritis. There is a bit of numbness, I suppose it will eventually go away. However, there is the other knee. It's not as bad as the other one, but it lets me know when I've overdone it. It just confirms I need to get another job that requires less footwork. I'm working on that.
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Last night after work, I came home and decided I would enjoy a nice cold bottle of beer. I knew there were two of them in the fridge and so I open the refrigerator, no cold beers. I reflected on the situation. The idea of relaxing and take in the warm evening was appealing, yet I didn't want to drive to the local liquor store either. It was a quick inner debate answered when I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
I picked out a six-pack of Michelob Ultra, chilled to perfection. I paid for my purchase and went back home, grateful for the sun setting low enough on the horizion it wasn't blinding me. With great haste I ripped a beer from it's cardboard carrier and took a drink.
Ahhh.
That first sip was great! (Let me say, I am not a sot, but I enjoy a good beer or a glass of wine on occasion.) I sat with my beer on my porch and soaked in the sounds of the neighborhood. The evening still warm, evident by kids shouting at each other as they rode their bikes past the house. Down the street a hopped up truck rapped its exhaust pipes, and several motorcycles could be heard driving into the distance.
I listened to dogs barking and wondered if they really communicated like they did in 101 Dalmatians. (For those of you who didn’t read the book, at twilight, dogs have their own communication system, sending news by barking.)
Then came tree frogs. Initially, their throaty chirps mixed with crickets and birds finding roosting places. As the evening waned, soon it was just the frogs and me. I listened to them and stared at the stars in the sky. The Orion is getting into his summer path and I was happy to see that. (After twenty years of living in the same place, a person gets to know the paths of the seasons such as sunrise and sunsets, you get the idea.)
I think there were only two “talking”. One had a higher pitch than the other one, projecting the note into the evening air. I listened to these two going back and forth for another three beers before I noticed they had slowed down. By the fifth beer, it was time for me to go inside and go to bed.
That was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time and was proud of myself for not having a hangover.
This does not mean I will do this all the time, which, I think makes the experience that much more pleasant. However, the days are getting longer and sitting outside in the evening listening to nature tempts me.