I did. See, that is. The lights.

Took a break, just before sunset. Only so much sorting and packing of boxes I can do before I go crazy – especially in a house as crazy as this. Wandered off to the wall over by the start of the downslope, sat there for a while to watch the sun go down, listen to the birds go quiet as they settled in for the night.

Turned back to the house. Lights. Lights glowing, gently, everywhere.

Anywhere that you might need a light at night, it would come on as you walked that way. But not lights as such – not like an electric light, anyway. More just a phosphorescence, the sense of light, without any focus. Yet bright enough to see by, no trouble at all. Which would fade away again as soon as you walked away.

Except in the house itself. There were points of light, or globes of light, in the kitchen window, and in some of the other windows too. Those pot-plants that I’d seen earlier, on the windowsill? – my childhood memories weren’t wrong. They were the lights that I remember from back then. Plants. That were lights.

Did I say it’s odd? Too right it is. The Oddness-dial has just cranked itself all the way up to eleven.

And I’ve a real suspicion it’s going to go a whole lot higher yet.