"How strange we grow when we're alone. How unlike the selves that meet and talk, and blow the candles our, and say goodnight."
I notice that breathing this pure northern air really helps the sleeping process. I sleep more deeply, and if I wake up in the night, I fall asleep more easily. There is literally no stale air around a cabin which is so open to the outside world. I was amused, though, last night to notice a difference from the past.
All my life, one of my favorite moments is the moment when I am lying on my back in bed and all the lights are out except for the flickering in the rafters of the dying fire in the fireplace. It is then that we talk about life from room to room over the open ceiling, getting increasingly sleepy. A lot of family bonding takes place at that time.
This summer I have not even thought of lighting a fire, but falling asleep last night I noticed light up in the rafters. It was the light from the blue light that indicates that the computer speakers are on, a light which is hardly noticeable in daylight but seems bright and intrusive in the dark. It was uncannily like the firelight, except there was no flickering involved. So I can have the illusion of the dying fire, diminished by the lack of flickosity, just as I can have the illusion of true toast in the morning without the labor of personal toastage. See, modern life slides and slips into the primitive, healthy world of the cabin.
N.B. I actually saw the great blue heron fly out of the pond last night. The animals reveal themselves one by one over a few days.
N.B. I watched Gosford Park on the laptop last night, enjoying it a lot just as when I saw it in the theater. Now I am listening to Altman's commentary on it, after which I will listen to the screenwriter's commentary.
N.B. Perfect weather here again. Sunny, mid-seventies. Light breeze.