Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 42 minutes ago
It's the season of shifting, of anticipating shifting, of resisting shifting...
Today I bought a suet-cake bird feeder to replace the one that the bear mangled earlier this summer. Winter will eventually come, and the birds will need it. I will wait to fill and hang it until we are fairly sure the bear has gone to sleep.
Here on the desk next to my arm the cat has gone to sleep.
I am being encouraged to go upstairs and go to sleep as well.
(If anyone reading this is parent or grandparent of small children, do not miss the essential book Go the F--- to Sleep.)
I am trying very hard to re-tool my habit---which was, from teen years on, to save the juicy stuff for late at night, when no-one would interrupt, and the atmosphere felt more conducive to concentration.
Now we are being told that it is not only the hours of sleep which count, but when you do those hours.
That is SO not fair.
Late at night, the vibe all around is thicker, quiet and muffled. There is an illusion of increased privacy---although there is no real reason this should be so now, when almost the only other being who ever enters this study is Mishka the cat.
Oh, I still miss him so; miss his invitation: "Hartzeleh, come to bed already." (That is the grownup version of Go the F--- to Sleep.)
I feel the first whiff in the air presaging Fall.
It always brings that unique and strange combination: the ending of the Jewish year and beginning of the new one; the first day of school. Back East, it is a change in the feel of the air: something ripe and astringent and exciting. A scent of apple cider.
Here, tonight, I hear the rain on the skylights---one of the characteristics of this house that first let me even consider it. (Being on a major and trafficked street could have disqualified the house entirely. I'm so glad it didn't.)
Grateful, grateful, grateful.