Commas and Fluff

Living Like Weasels

I like this essay.
Like is a weak word.
It should be added to the list of evil words.
Anyway, my point was this is an essay I enjoy and appreciate, so I wanted to write a moderately intelligent and thoughtful response.
But my brain is totally fried.
Fluffed, rather.
My fluffs, who look something like this, are now fighting amongst themselves.
A group of them decided to form a band and began walking back and forth, banging on drums.
(Headache?  Uh, yeah.)
Being tired, the others weren't too happy about their comrades' decision, so they started chucking popcorn.
And now they're all running around and whacking each other with pillows.
It's actually kind of entertaining.
Maybe I can get something done while they're distracted.
The thing that strikes me most about this piece is not, as you might expect, the content.  What I see is the language.  For example, just look at her comma placement.

I have been reading about weasels because I saw one last week. I startled a weasel who startled me, and we exchanged a long glance.

Twenty minutes from my house, through the woods by the quarry and across the highway, is Hollins Pond, a remarkable piece of shallowness, where I like to go at sunset and sit on a tree trunk.

Listen to the rhythm, the pattern.  One clean, straightforward sentence.  I have been reading about weasels because I saw one last week.  Factual, isn't it?  Straight to the point.  Informative.  And then she expands on the thought, but she does it with a certain style.  I startled a weasel who startled me, and we exchanged a long glance.  There's a distinct pause when she adds the extra clause.
Hey, see the rhyme I just made?
Totally on purpose.
Not really.
Also, I just misspelled rhyme.
This means I should probably go to bed.
But I'm too lazy.
Getting ready for said location is entirely too much work.
Take note of the third sentence.  Twenty minutes from my house, through the woods by the quarry and across the highway, is Hollins Pond, a remarkable piece of shallowness, where I like to go at sunset and sit on a tree trunk.  Trim it down to the heart and you have Twenty minutes from my house is Hollins Pond.  Throw in a modifier to make it more personal: where I like to go at sunset and sit on a tree trunk.  It's already sounding more restful, isn't it?  Sunset, it's quiet, peaceful...  The next addition gives a sense of location, as well as an idea of the juxtaposition of nature and modern civilization: through the woods by the quarry and across the highway.  And what, exactly, is there?  Simply a remarkable piece of shallowness.  It's an unexpected, underrated refuge.

Now I and my fluffs are going to bed because I'm too tired to think any more.  So this is an abrupt ending.

p.s.  I just found the part where she says ensconced in the lap of lichen and it struck me as absolutely lovely.  I appreciate alliteration.  Good night.