The Early Bird

It must be nice to sleep the sleep of the just, to lay your head down at 10 and sleep uninterruptedly for eight hours and wake refreshed. I can't remember the last time I did that myself—it must have happened a couple times in my life, I suppose, but not lately.

But it's not so bad, actually. I woke up in the small hours the other night, wondered if I would be able to fall back asleep and eventually decided that I wouldn't. So I got up to see what was going on, because if you're a light sleeper you know that night is not just a boring nothing-happening time. The moon was full, for one thing, setting through a cloudy sky. I couldn't get a decent image of that, and I also failed to get a nice one of the moon framed by the tree branches. But I got one of the moon by itself, and that felt good.

By the time dawn arrived, there were several bats circling around out front, obviously chasing an invisible swarm of insects. I tried to shoot them too, but they kept dancing around out of reach, but it was an interesting exercise. I did manage to get an image of a bird against the cloudy sky that I liked. Just me and the cat, a cup of coffee, and the world waking up. Last night I did actually sleep soundly, and this morning I woke to the rising sun painting the clouds. But that spooky, otherworldly stuff? Slept right through it. Once in a while, it's worth it, not sleeping well.