I was right. We’re skipping spring altogether this year, going straight from the dead of winter to the dead of summer. The temperature has gone up to 27C, and there’s still snow on the ground. I was so excited at the chance to escape the Great Indoors, I actually talked Laird into sleeping outside on the deck last night. Now Laird, being a big fan of the Great Indoors, took some persuading. He’s a good sport, though, and after a few beers, he agreed. I think the fact that I marched all of the pillows from the bed to the now fully-inflated air mattress on the deck may also have been a factor, but I can’t be sure. No, I exaggerate. He lit some incense and some candles for ambience, and I contributed the alarm clock, a wooden spoon and the biggest metal pot lid I could find — just in case our close neighbour and frequent backyard guest the racoon decided to climb into bed with us.
I couldn’t stop smiling as I lay outside, on the deck, warm and snuggly under a pile of blankets with my dog stretched out by my side, his head resting on the crook of my arm. It was so lovely to stare at the moon and the wayward seagulls heading for home, instead of a crack in the ceiling!! I fell fast asleep, and didn’t budge when Laird finally, reluctantly joined me. At 1:30AM Jake bolted awake and started barking. Our friend the racoon was scrambling down the big tree across the yard, probably still dopey because he took a big tumble before recovering his composure and climbing the fence. He sure had a lot to say about our sleeping arrangements — strange squeeky oinking noises, obviously not pleased. But as he showed no inclination to join our little party, we all fell quickly back to sleep.
A nice change from the usual middle-of-the-night rousing by (a) the screeching of streetcars racing back to the terminal, (b) loud drunks leaving the bar across the street, or my favourite, (c) the recycling truck collecting cans and bottles piled up front of the restaurants along the street — and the sound of crashing glass and metal at 4 in the morning. That’s life in the big city, especially on a warm night with all the windows open. Sigh.
POLLENATRIX 