With the current heatwave cutting across Europe, sleeping in the usual place becomes a challenge. I follow the example of my cats and seek out the coolest and most comfortable place to sleep (and rest), in the hope that my body will follow the suggestion. The conservatory has become my preferred place thus far, with the advantage of sleeping among my plants and waking up to daybreak.
There is something utterly magical to witnessing the night fade away and give way to the first light. It is my personal movie theatre with the excitement of the day ahead, even though I have nothing planned. This morning I arose to silence, which is unusual for my spot of the river. The coots are ducks are always up and about, discussing whatever river fowl do at such odd hours. Occasionally the heron will join in with his strange squawk and add a bit of humour to the conversation. But today was quiet, not even the crows were interested in making their daily commentary, the cement factory on the other side is devoid of operators, and the construction workers in our building have not reported yet, or dropped a tool.
The morning silence is almost church-like, and I cannot help but be grateful for the gift. And write. Usually I prefer to do so at night, but something about the gentle breeze and the absence of metropolitan disturbances was so enticing, that breakfast just has to wait. Even the cats are respectful and have opted to snooze another round. Magic.
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