Friday, October 13, 2006

Of rolling over to find you when its quiet....

For each of us a season.

The back door is open and chill coils of mist spill down the jambs to the floor to eddy and pool. But not too far, its too warm in here for you, soon you'll be reconstituted, twinkling droplets on the coir strands of the mat. Fresh from the bathroom in a towel, making coffee and enjoying the counterpoint of cool and snug warmth, I can see you, plod plod plodding up the rear steps. Brown-wetter-than-normal-nose first you appear out of the foggy shroud little by little and stand on the threshold, half in half out, writing nonsense with your tail to ask, "did I hear a dish being filled dad, was that the cupboard door?".

"Yes it was chuck, now go and fetch your dozy mate". And these are the 5 minutes I keep for myself in the morning, sitting in the kitchen watching Charlie delicately pick at his breakfast while Toffee sets at his with such gusto that his whole body seems to clench and fragments of kibble ping and ricochet off the walls.

Today our sounds, the slurpings and munchings, the ping of the kettle and rattle of the spoon, are more precise, resonant almost, our aural colour, since the world outside is quiet wrapped in a blanket of thick muffling fog.

To wake up on a foggy autumn day is to wake up and discover that you are deaf. To lean out of bed to wipe a hand across the window to see the world confirms that you have also lost the faculty for colour. The world outside is shades of grey, and suddenly, shockingly visible cobwebs an inch from your nose. The fog has permeated the glass, a misty osmosis beading the inner surface and the little river that I have formed runs down my arm and drips, coldly onto the bedside table.

It's too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. There's a warm snug nest in the middle of the bed and cooler spots for toes on either side. Four great fluffy pillows to make soft walls, to cocoon until this bleary eyed splutterfly emerges into the world. So comfortable to lie there, so quiet and utterly peaceful. A short distracting day dream of a soft warm bottom sleepily resting against my leg, a freckled shoulder and slender neck draped in tussled hair, framing the smell of blissful contented sleep...I miss you (whoever you are)...

...no time for loss. There is no time to concentrate on what is not.

A different bottom, a bony bum with tail, bumps against the bedroom door accompanied by a loud, stage sigh, "pfffhhhhhhhhhh" ("are you ever getting up"?). How does he always know when I'm awake? I'll leave them in their separate space each night, tucking them in with a brief tummy rub, Charlie on his beanbag and Toffee in the corner of 'his' sofa. But every morning when I get up and open the bedroom door a large brown inquisitive eye will peer into the room and the patch of hallway floor immediately outside will be warm. And we'll sit outside for a moment and play rough and tumble, on my bare bum on the cold wooden floor, and it's good, it's great.

That's a part of why I like this time of year - beyond the colour and quality of light, the crunch of leaves and the feeling that everything is somehow richer, readier, complete - there is also coolness. It's no longer a world of dull warmth, (the summer warmth where every surface feels the same), but a dappled landscape of temperature, a place where fingers and noses are cold and toes are as snug as a bugs in a rug. When I'm warm I'm simply warm but when I'm cold I have choices and surprises and the opportunity for the mundane to be small delights, thick socks, soup, sunshine on a woodland walk, even a proffered smile is more warming on an autumn day.

It's an evening for wellie boots and a torch lit scramble I think. And tomorrow a lie in, and perhaps a day dream before the alarm bum strikes the door and says "come out".

18 comments:

Finn said...

I adore autumn, and I adore foggy mornings. There's nothing so beautiful to me as the world shrouded in mist, especially when you can stay in bed hugging your pillows and daydreaming about a cozy bedmate.

Dogs have a magical sense of time; one of mine used to wake just before the alarm went off and gamely try to get it to buzz by nudging it with his nose.

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

I'm having a lie in tomorrow myself (sure hope that means the same thing on this side of the pond!) ;)

And my Jezebel does that very same thing...only she does the snuffles underneath the door...I can hear her out there "snuffle, snuffle"...and then, when I open the door, she's standing there, tail spinning madly...waiting. But the spot on the carpet where my feet are now planted is oh so warm from where she's been laying.

It's nice to be loved so, isn't it? They just cannot wait to see you...they have to see you the very moment you leave the room...so they wait where you cannot possibly get by them.

I truly truly love my dogs...:)

Dustin said...

See, this is why you should visit (read: come and live forever) in the Pacific Northwest. We have "autumn" from October to April. It's rather grand.

Natalie said...

Ooohhhh, I just stumbled upon your blog and I absolutely love it. Thanks for the entertainment...
Hugs from Canada,
N.

Miladysa said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Miladysa said...

[Problems with the comment gremlins tonight!]

Poetry Fish... pure poetry :]

Enemy of the Republic said...

What a cool blog. Gorgeous. I should warn you that if you visit mine, I am going through an emotional purging phase, so it isn't cheerful. Hopefully that will end. Saw you on Seven's blog.

elle said...

warm bottoms and cold beds.....yum.

patti_cake said...

One of my favorite things is a cold room and a warm bed...

You are such a poet Colin. You're use of wording, pauses, you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when I read you.

Pam said...

Hmmm....day dream of a soft warm bottom sleepily resting against my leg, a freckled shoulder and slender neck draped in tussled hair, framing the smell of blissful contented sleep.
Sounds delightful....
Wishing you the best of luck with that day dream Colin.
I have a few chica's you can meet when you start on your journey.
Can't promise slender necks or freckled shoulders....
Being content is a wonderous emotion that far too many rebel against. Glad to read you are enjoying it.
♥Pam

Seven said...

I think about it too Fish. I wish I could form the words as true. It is an art you own. I'm glad for it in a selfish reading way.

Sandra said...

My dog has to be awakened and urged to come have breakfast, and he delicately picks at it too. I like how described this time of morning, that was brilliant.

Seven said...

Ooops...I meant to say I think about the change of seasons that way too....

Aims said...

What a wonderful picture you paint fish. & no it wasn't strip poker!!!!!!

guesswhat.karma said...

hey col, it's kristie. i ditched the old blog for a new one, and just wanted to give you the link.

http://severedsmoker.blogspot.com/

*kiss*

Anne said...

Beautiful post...makes me want to find little Rickey and give him some smoochies. What would do without our dogs?

Jessica said...

"When I'm warm I'm simply warm but when I'm cold I have choices and surprises and the opportunity for the mundane to be small delights, thick socks, soup, sunshine on a woodland walk, even a proffered smile is more warming on an autumn day" - I love this post, Colin...it's beautifully written and true.

Melissa said...

Col, you may have outdone yourself with this one. It's gorgeous. Very well said, big meaning in small words.

I've no warm bum other than Duke's this weekend. His big, brown, hairy, mutt of a bum. It makes me blissfully happy. He just might get to sleep in the bed with me tonight. Someone's got to fill the other half of the bed, no?