One gardener's observations, discoveries and random thoughts whilst simultaneously worshipping and dallying in a Cape Cod garden. "A garden," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is like those pernicious machineries which catch a man's coatskirt or his hand, and draw in his arm, his leg and his whole body to irresistable destruction."

No Limit On Words

Hey Everybody. This is the only photo I got just now.

It turns out there’s a limit to the free memory storage of a Blogger account (1024MB) and now that I know there’s a limit, it makes perfect sense to me to discover that I have reached that limit, considering how many photos I have already shared here at the Midnight Garden.

I see that I can purchase additional storage space, so once I’ve managed that, I’ll be back to the business of sharing photos and such. For now, a thousand words will have to suffice. I know. I shudder to consider which ones will spill out from my keyboard, don’t you? I’ll try to be discreet.

The living room painting is finished, more or less, and I’m mostly quite pleased with how it came out. I did think that the sponged-on finish coat ended up obscurring a little more of the dragonfly and crow details, so I want to touch those up a little bit. Actually, I did darken up the crow when I got home this evening, and I guess it’s working better now: when I looked over at it a little while later, Badum was perched on the back of the chair, staring up at the crow in exactly the same way he does with live birds. So I think I got it right. ; )

He and I had a startling experience last night. Since we are in a seeming perpetual state of Something Was Just Painted here at the Nest, we’ve been sleeping with windows open for ventilation purposes…plus I always enjoy the fresh air as long as I can in the Fall. Even though it’s down in the low fifties overnight, I like the windows wide open, though sometimes getting up in the night (or to turn on the coffee pot) can be a little chilly. But that’s why one has monkey slippers and sweatpants, after all.

ANYWAYZ…now that the nights are cooling down, my roommate has been doing more Cat Caving…which is where, while I am reading in bed before shutting out the light at night, he comes up and digs his way down under the covers, exploring the hidden space beneath the comforter. After nosing around, he usually comes up alongside me, kneading against my side as he settles in, far enough down to be just an adorable face in the darkness down there…but overtime, he always slides his way up further, to facilitate the all-important belly rub.

Through all this, and usually when he arrives on the bed–he is a most agreeable kitty, as a rule –the Purring is going full-force…and as he gets comfier, he starts throwing some heat…and often, he’ll snuggle right up into my armpit, one soft paw stretched across my chest, or sometimes reaching up to touch my cheek. He’s pretty cute like that.

Ah, so there…I’ve set the stage for the startling experience. So there we were, snuggling in just like that. It was really quite nice and so I put my book down early and settled back to snuggle in with him and even nodded off for a little while before shutting the light out. (I’m hesitant to do that sometimes when the cat’s comfy, as the light outened seems to suggest to him that I’m about to roll over and crush him, and so off he’ll dash…) But then he stayed even after the light was out and it was pretty cozy…

…and then suddenly, there was this crystal clear and close…and LOUD…coyote howl. One single perfect howl, splitting the night…the sound filling every space. And before it had a chance to fade, there was a response, suddenly, of what sounded like a dozen to twenty more coyotes and in a bit of a frenzy. Either it was the public portion of some committee meeting where they all talked at once, or perhaps it was some kind of attack in the meadow/marsh behind the houses across the road. I can’t be sure I didn’t hear distressed birds in all the chaos.

Anyway, my gray buddy darted to the headboard, and then made the rounds of a variety of windows. I have often suspected that he came to me from a brush with a coyote or two, as he was a bit scraped up, as well as scrawny, when he came up the garden path that night. He’s had a variety of reactions to the sounds of the coyotes, which sort of bear out my suspicions. It was a while before he returned to bed, to curl up against the backs of my legs and resume the purring.

It was a little unsettling for me, as well, but knowing we were pretty safe on the second floor, I could also appreciate that it was sort of cool to have some pretty intense Nature right there outside..

It was a beautiful weekend, and I’m sorry to have exceeded my limit. I’ve got some beautiful photos from Saturday afternoon, when I went over to Chatham to see the Budweiser Clydesdales as they paraded down Main Street to celebrate the Chatham Squire’s fortieth anniversary. Here’s a few photos and another account of the afternoon.

It was a wonderful, sunny afternoon, just warm enough for a day in early October. There were some lovely, late season gardens blooming along the way and so I got all kinds of great photos of those, especially some wonderful Montauk daisies, and the pansies above.

People were packing in all along Main Street, really July Fourth parade crowded. I was looking for my pal Jane amongst the masses, since I would’ve enjoyed spending some time with her. This was really just another act of Wishful Thinking on my part, since I hadn’t actually called her ahead of time to say “hey, meet me in Chatham” or anything. Sadly, I never did see her, though I did meet a few other friends along the way. Jane, if you’re reading this, ring me!

The horses were quite beautiful, really stunning creatures. However, since I only saw them as they went past, I must admit I get to see more of them in Budweiser commercials. I suspect, too, that some folks had been led down a path by the use of the word “parade” as a verb, instead of the more lengthy noun we are most of us familiar with. It really was one of those “here they come/there they are/there they go/don’t step in the horsepoo!” brief experiences.

Still, I got a nice photo or two which I hope to someday share with you all. (I do regret not having captured a photo of that most famous horseshit to share with my friend Tornwordo.)

Meanwhile, I hope you all had great weekends, too, and that your week in progress is being kind. At least there’s a holiday weekend to look forward to at the end of it…and plans for it are shaping up to be great fun, too: I can hardly wait.


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