Me and Will Smith

When folks ask  about what it's like here in the woods, they usually wonder, "Is it just so quiet at night?"

Ummmm.... heh heh heh, nnnnoooo.  No, it's not.

Have you ever seen the movie I Am Legend? That freaky good Will Smith zombie movie? There is that scene after Will Smith locks down the apartment for the night, where he climbs into the tub with his dog as darkness descends (see it here).  Soon, the night sounds of the zombie horde begin to penetrate the metal window shutters which are the only things keeping our hero from becoming a midnight snack.  We cringe as the zombie cries reach a terrifying fever-pitch, while Will and his poor pooch cling to each other, waiting for the blessed relief of daylight.

It's like that!!!  Okay, maybe not a zombie apocalypse, but it was a little, at first, back when I was all worked up about mountain lions.  And fires.  And bears (Lions and fires and bears, OH MY!).  But it can still be a little spooky.

To lend some contrast, understand that from our old house in Rancho, at night we could hear the traffic on Folsom Blvd., mostly the back-up beep-beep-beep of the vendor trucks at the market 2 blocks down, and the hum of cars.  There were the random honks here and there, dogs barking, and the drunk party-ers across the street.  Oh, and guns sometimes (okay, so Rancho is it's own brand of scary).  And amorous cats,  those were my favorites.

But when you hear the same night noises for years, it becomes... quiet (except for the dang cats. You never get used to that.)

Here, the mountain-yin to that city-yang starts soon after dusk (just like in the movie!).  I mean, there is the ever present burble and chatter of the creek, of course.  But I don't usually notice it during the day, so at night it's like someone turned up the volume on it.  Next, as the last rays of daylight fade to grey, the crickets start gettin' all worked up, and then the faint chirp of a frog floats through the air. With the darkness there is another, and then another, until soon it sounds like a touch down at Frog-State University's football game.  Go listen to that in your head for a minute.  I'll wait.

Loud, isn't it?

Time for a public service announcement...

If a pond full of frogs is screaming their slimy little lungs out, and you are over it, if you yell 
"Shut Up!"... they will!  (Yes, I yell at frogs.  Don't judge).

Please explain to me... if frogs chirp to find a mate, and there are, like, 26 of them in a 5 foot pond, are they all deaf, blind, and possibly brain dead?  Honestly.  Sign up for a dating site, already.  The pond thing ain't workin'.  You're going to be single forever.

Something sets off the two chihuahuas up the hill at our nearest neighbor's.  They go on for a while till a man's voice barks back a few colorful phrases.  They scare the frogs into silence, a door slam echos through the woods, and in about 6 seconds, as though cued by an amphibious conductor's tiny wand, the frogs start up again in earnest.

Now, as I've mentioned, it's been quite warm here.  The house heats up nicely during the day, so we fling wide the windows in the evening to welcome the breezes, and climb into bed under the window as the cool evening floats in.  Guy is asleep before I'm done flossing (to be fair, I floss for days).  I finally settle into my pillow.

CRUNCH. Step, step, crackle, TWIG SNAP, drag-scrape!

I bolt up in bed and grab my phone, tip-toe running to the bathroom where I can look out the window without waking Guy.  The window is open, but the dim glow of the Little's night-light bounces off the screen and I can't see out.  I rip the light out of the outlet and am plunged into the blackest black. No stars, no moon, certainly no street lights or headlights.  I aim my phone's flashlight out the window.  Something glowing moves among the trees on the steep-but close hill across from the window, and then freezes.  Just eyes.  Daaarknesssssss and eeeeeeyes.  Darn phone doesn't shine brightly enough to reveal the owner!  I mean, could be raccoon, could be land shark, right?

I put the light down, and in a moment the crunching resumes.  We do the dance, Land Shark and I, me with my flashlight, him with his creepy-green glowing eyes.  Eventually, deciding that the Land Shark can only possibly bore me to death, I get tired and go to bed.  Step, crunch, scrape, scrape.  I put my arm over my ear aaaaaand... fall asleep.

Tap.     

TapTapTapTap.    Tap.  Tap. Tap.

There is what would appear-by-ear to be a leprechaun out in the woods making itty-bitty shoes with a teeny, tiny hammer.  I huff and shut the window, then listen to the only slightly muffled shoe making.  Nocturnal wood pecker, perhaps?  Is that even a thing?!

At about 4 am my bladder wakes me up. That's not part of the moon-lit cacophony, that's just the nightly drill, but it's super convenient, 'cuz it gets me all ready for BIRD-A-PALOOZA!!!

You may have heard some nonsense about early birds getting up with the morning light. Yah, what a load of crap.  Birds don't get up early.  They get up BEFOOOOORE early.  WAY. All of them.
ALL.
THE.
BIRDS.
It sounds like someone took 412 parrots, stuffed them into a box, threw in a few cats, and shook it really hard.

Oh, and I'm in the box, too.

I bury my head and drift off to slee... a pterodactyl flies by cawing frantically.  The pterodactyl and several of his friends circle the house 47 times. The chihuahuas protest.  I fade off again at around lap 34, but I can hear them caw in my dreams.

Just about 20 minutes later, number-one son gets up for work, and the very strangely placed vent in our upstairs bedroom that leads directly to the family room below, allows me to enjoy all of his happy, nay, spunky! getting-ready-for-work sounds.  As the garage door slams, rattling the house like a 6.2 quake, and Son's truck roars to life and then crunches up the gravel driveway too fast, I hear Guy begin to stir for work.  But he's a ninja.  I sleep right through, and then snooze a little longer after our prayer and kiss goodbye.  The birds begin to settle.  The chihuahuas are at rest. The frogs ate all the crickets, I guess, because I hear neither (may they all get heartburn). There are no more monsters in the forest.  It's finally quiet enough to sleep-
when my alarm goes off.

Yep.  Me and Will Smith, and the blessed (?) relief of daylight.

*****

But, alas, as I write this, it's

time

to

go

to

bed...

(!)

In the Still of the Night

It is around 1:00 AM  

when I head off to bed, working late on Valentines for the kids.  Silly notes and little treats to put into their "mail boxes".   It is my goal to bribe them with sugar often enough that they not remember that I was "da mean mama" that made them pick up dog poo.  I definaltely think its working.  Maybe.

I wearily waddle to my room (yes, at night I waddle.  It's easier than bending my knees) and find my side of the bed occupied by a little person.  Correction.  A not-so-little-anymore person.  He is practicing his famous Diagonal Rib Crusher, a sleep circus-manuver that falls somewhere between a cartwheel and a high speed yoga move.  I am too tired to lug his rag-doll bod to his little bed nearby, so I spin him around and skootch him over close to Guy.  Alas, as soon as my head hits the pillow, Jonah-boy slides right back, wraps his chubby, cool arms around my neck and mumbles "mama".  I let his cheek stay right where it lands on mine, and smootch his squishy face, then I nudge him down a little and tuck his head under my chin.  He nestles into my side and sighs contentedly.  I lay there listening to him breathe and smelling his hair.  The sounds of the house meld into a steady drone.  The slosh of the dishwasher, the hum of the faraway dryer, the faint squeek of a hamster wheel.  Guy's deep slow breathing is echoed in doubletime by the light wispy breaths of Jonah.  It is the nightly song of our sleepy house.  I shut my eyes.

A thump in my belly calls my attention and coaxes a smile from me, but before my hand can reach to feel the spot, the thumping stops.  A trickle of chilly air sneeks between the frames of our tired old windows, and I burrow down into the covers and finally begin to drift off...

My eyes pop open at the familiar thud of heals hitting the hardwood floor.  I wait, and the footfalls soon tell me it is Tessa; partly because of how faint and quick they are, partly because there is suddlenly a running sound into the livingroom.  I slide The Acrobat off of my arm, flop my big-ol' self off the side of the bed and head out to find The Sleepwalker.  She is standing in the kitchen.  She starts telling me about a bunny on the floor that only she can see as I take her by the shoulders and guide her into the bathroom.  When she is done, the dull blur in her eyes disappears and in a moment she hugs me sweetly and says "nigh-night", heading back out to the livingroom.  I spin her around like they do in cartoons and give her a nudge down the hall toward her room.  Back in my room, I bump my shin on a laundry basket in the dark.  I begin to lay down only to find a diagonal Jonah cris-crossing my pillow.  The 3 seconds it takes to get my spot back makes my tired head feel so heavy.  I slump under the blankets.

Before I have time to take Jonah's feet back off of my hip for the second time, I hear a big thump on the floor.  This time there is the jingle of a dog collar along with big boy footsteps, and Adam's bedroom door opens.  The toilet soon flushes and then I hear the sink turn on.  I smile in the dark over a boy who washes his hands in the middle of the night.  Good job, Addy, I whisper.

I hear a train, and a confused little bird calling all alone.  In the other room, Toby falls off the bed with a kerplunk that shakes the floor.  Jonah's breath scudders.  Guy coughs a little.  My heart burn kicks in and I grab for the chalky tablets by the bedside. Ellie murmers in her sleep.  The baby thumps around, reminding me of my low bladder capacity.  I smack my shin again on my way to the bathroom.

Back to bed,

heart pounding in my ears.

Baby bumping. 

 Heater clicks on. 

Jonah throws his leg over me. 

I leave it this time.

The bird again. 

 

In the still of the night.

Still awake.