Friday, August 22, 2008

 
A friend stayed over last night before an early morning flight out of Manchester Airport. P and Fritz have known each other for eons, since P was a chorus boy and actor in New York City. He now lives in southwest new Hampshire and runs a successful pet boarding and walking service. To make his flight and all the security, it was agreed he’d better get up at 3:30 AM today. My beloved being a dear and generous man, he said he’d get up to make sure that P was up, dressed and packed in time to leave by 4:15.

As it happened, I was awake myself because sometime between 3 and 3:30, our owl began to give his territorial defense cry. He was in extremely good voice, pumping it out at high volume and adding a trill as a flourish on the final note that I haven’t heard from him previously. In the far distance there was a response from another owl, and it all went on for fifteen to twenty minutes. Our boy ended the dialog with a strange variation, like a jazz improv, that had him going very high in pitch and adding several extra notes to the standard four in two reps. Last night, he was TEH OWL.

As I drifted back to sleep I couldn’t help but think that had Nicky Cooper been a real man, or had the fraud of his blog not yet been exposed, we’d probably have had an email exchange this morning about owls in the night and he would have written something heartbreakingly beautiful about lying in a tent in the northern forest surrounded by the manifold cries of nature and connecting with the cosmos. Well, he isn’t and we didn’t. But I think I connected with something pretty wonderful last night when a barred owl gave a song of joy just outside my window.

**

Watch this Space!


It’s the very last of the spaces against the house where we’ve planned to have a planter. It will fill the area between the stone-clad pier on the left and the retaining wall of the berm on the right. It’s the shortest of the planters.


The last one I built was the longest, across the three south-facing windows of our bedroom.


This is our bathroom, with no windows and the lights turned off. The picture was taken without flash. All the light comes from the SolaTube that gathers sun through a Plexiglas dome on the roof and then travels eight feet at a low angle before terminating at a plastic lens in the middle of the bathroom ceiling. On a fine, sunny day, this windowless bathroom is just about the brightest room in the house.

*******

The Wit and Wisdom of George W. Bush

You teach a child to read, and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test.

(Hmmmm. Well, SOME of the hes or hers.)

Comments:
Funny you should mention Nicky. *sigh*

Come on over for dinner, Will. Bring Fritz, if you can drag him along! Time for all of us to break bread together!
 
I don't mind being awaken by thunderstorms or wildlife.

You could of course write Jo about the owl.
 
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