I spent the night in the conservatory last night. Someone had asked me back when it was completed if I was going to sleep out there, so I said I would. For one night.
I toyed with the idea of taking the little 7" TV out with me, but it was Tuesday night and there wasn't much besides NCIS that I cared to watch anyway. My plan was to work on some writing I needed to do, so I took my computer out with me, and did a little of that. I spent some time on Twitter and I finished reading Still Summer by Jacqueline Mitchard.
Refreshments accompanied me - Diet Mountain Dew and barbecue Lay's. I had to make sure I closed the Lay's bag up really tight when I was done with them, because the humidity out there would ruin them by morning if I didn't. I had my phone by me, in case the boogey man tried to break in.
Around 9:00 PM, the fluorescent lights turned off, as programmed by the timer. That left a very dim 60-watt bulb for light. Every now and then, I'd see something move out of the corner of my eye. In low light like that, everything looks a bit fuzzy and some things are not instantly recognizable. The moving somethings turned out to be a few fungus gnats. Ahhh...just like home.
I wish I could report that some sort of adventure happened, but the night was pretty uneventful. I'd let Lily in to sleep with me, so we snuggled all night on the lawn lounge. At one point, she noticed something outside and I thought maybe the deer were sneaking a snack in the garden, but when I looked, it was just a rabbit, heading into the neighbor's yard.
There was a slight breeze outside, so mostly the only sounds I heard during the night were the five-foot wind chimes, hung just outside the conservatory, in the gazebo. The heater came on periodically, but after awhile, I didn't notice it. The hum of the ceiling fan overhead provided a low-level white noise, perfect for sleeping.
When you're alone and it's quiet and dark, a lot of thinking goes on. Sure, it can be dark and quiet inside your home, but there's something about being in atypical surroundings that changes the subject of your thoughts. Writers know about this. It's why many choose a retreat specifically to write and why many become writers because of it.
Nothing outside of that thought itself was profound in the least. I worried that Lily would wake in the night and dig in the large brugmansia pot to do her business. (She didn't.) I was concerned that the propane heater was putting out carbon monoxide and I would be found in the morning with blue lips with my beloved Lily in my arms. (And then I remembered that the heater was made to be used in homes, too.)
|1:40 AM ... Max's Garden by moonlight|
I thought about the wasp I'd seen buzzing in one of the windows last week and hoped it slept at night. There were the spiders, of course, but I quickly put those out of my mind. I hoped to hear the Great Horned Owl, as we do on many nights. (And I did - both male and female, calling to one another!)
|1:35 AM ... the moon through the skylight|
So you're probably wondering why I did this. I can't give you an answer other than to say, "Because I could." I awoke this morning, surrounded by beautiful plants and when the sun rose and shone through the east windows, it was good.