Monday, 28 July 2008
Things that go bump (and scrape) in the night (and early evening)
I've got other things to worry about. Last night, after reading younger daughter to sleep with Little Women, I sat quietly on her bed, making sure that she had descended into dreamland deeply enough to risk turning the lights off. That meant it was quiet enough for me to hear the bumping and scraping against her window. Which is on the second floor. With no trees nearby.
I'm not thrilled about being alone in a house at night at the best of times, let alone a large house on a semi-rural cul-de-sac past eleven in the evening. I listened incredulously for several seconds then struck up the courage to raise the blinds.
Nuthin'. I nervously prepared myself for bed and made the rounds, shutting all windows on this chilly night, and mulling over how much I hate going out into the black front and back yards to fruitlessly call for the Teen-Cats. In addition, I'd forgotten it was Garbage Pick-up the next morning, so had the extra pleasure of collecting the contents of the various bins, transporting them to the ill-lit garage, then, having discovered that I've forgotten how to open the garage door, hauling two large cans back into the house, down the hall and out into the dark driveway to the curb. I spotted one, then two cat silhouettes in the yard across the street and softly called before realizing they were too large to be Winsome Teen-Cat. (I'd corralled Ginger Teen-cat earlier.) Another movement caught my eye, and the ghostly shapes of a doe and her fawn hurried into a space between houses.
Eventually, fatigue overcame my night-time terror and l lulled myself to sleep with the local rock station, waking up each hour to hear how far they'd gotten in their Led Zepplin documentary.
I checked the side of the house this morning to see what was under younger daughter's window. Just a makeshift kind of shelf for kindling --- although if a man stood on it, he might be able to brush the window with his fingers. Or machete....
Early this evening, I went out back to hang younger daughter's swimswuit on the line and startled a doe grazing on the other side of the house. She galloped to the chainlink fence, leapt like a gazelle (or a deer, actually), and hung herself up on it briefly before limping into the Shasta daisies. I watched as she clopped unevenly across the road to munch on the neighbour's lawn. I understand the deer are a nuisance to gardeners, but I do hope she's all right.
You don't suppose she leapt on top of the kindling shelf last night, about 11 pm, do you?