Thursday, July 22, 2010
Last night, after an eleven-hour day at work packing product for the Bellevue Arts Fair, I laid out on my back porch in the dark and looked at stars with my binoculars. Cedar trees scented the warm air, and the cats sashayed about me, telling me their little cat stories in various squeaks and mewls. Paul sat just inside at the kitchen table, watching a Van Morrison video on You Tube, a bottle of Casal Garcia Portuguese rose´uncorked on the counter. I considered sleeping outside on my $20 plastic-strap lounger (which unfortunately often folds me up inside it if I'm not careful) but then also considered the family of raccoons that frequents our back porch, as well as the local night-roaming coyotes. The cats, who almost certainly would alert my sleeping self to the presence of critters, would most likely flee if a feral canine attempted to nibble on my toes. And then the mosquitos would make a midnight snack of any exposed skin. Alas, I retreated to my most civilized bed, but longed for that ceiling of stars above me.