At night’s end



Abelard the Dog and Courtenay Bluebird sharing a pillow on the bed.

When Abelard is drowsy, he will often curl up against my back—or drape his head across my torso—and drop into a wild and natural sleep

Abelard snores: his breathing is wet and sonorous and deep.  This dog shows himself to be a true slumberer, a gourmand of snooze, an enthusiast of rest, a sleeper of great gusto.

In other words, Abelard is the young canine Orson Wells of deep sleep and I love him for it.

But there’s something funny about Abelard and his sleep, and by funny, I mean strange. I’ve discovered that I have to make sure I’ve finished getting ready for bed myself before I settle in with Abelard because his sleep-sounds are a natural soporific.

It’s a shock, I tell you, to wake up and discover that I’ve managed to fall asleep with my clothes and street shoes on. Again. I’m a lifelong, honest-to-goodness, there-are-doctors-involved insomniac—this sort of thing doesn’t happen in my world, ever.

Yet, thanks to Abelard, I sleep. It’s suddenly very simple. I brush my teeth for two minutes; attend to my skin; straighten the covers; listen to Abelard gulp and snore and fuffle, and WHAMMO!—I’m out.

Gee, just thinking about Abelard’s artful torpor makes me want to head off to Snoozeville.  Let’s see if Abelard is ready for bed. Abelard? Bed?

Ah, here he comes.

Hand me that butterfly net, will you?  I want to net me some z’s.

What It Means to Be Good-Natured

 
 
 
Photo of Monkey the Dog wearing a cone of shame.

 
 
 

Prizes

 
 
Prizes
 
 
 

A Canyon Hymn

 
 
 
Big Bend Canyon Vintage-Style Photograph
 
 
 

I Wish I Was Here

 
 
 
Big Bend Landscape Bluebird Blvd.
 
 
 

Far Far Far Away

 
 
 
Self-Portrait photograph with text
 
 
 

The Light Changes Who We Are

 
 
 
The Light Changes Who We Are

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Our Dreams Are Simple

 
 
 
Our Dreams Are Simple
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Happy Like This Gal Here

 
 
 
20130125-224833.jpg
 
 
 
 
 
 

All of Your Yesterdays Swirl in the Dust

 
 
 
All of Your Yesterdays
 
 
 
 
 
 

Much later, she will dream of the near silent sound of new boots on fresh snow.

 
 
 
Much later, she will dream of the near silent sound of new boots on fresh snow.
 
 
 

The Race Isn’t Finished Yet

 
 
 
The Race Isn't Finished
 
 
 

Today’s story word is “scenery.”

 
 

Is scenery real? Is it an idea? Is it both real and an idea?

 
 

***

 
 


*BLUEBIRD BLVD. will be writing ON THE ROAD all week. That means no limits, spotty WiFi, and a borrowed computer (because my computer, Mec the Mac, is in hospital with a serious hardware issue.)

What’s different than the usual besides all that? Well, we will be telling stories together all the way up to Xmas.

Because I believe that we are all telling stories in the dark.

Tell me more. I am leaning in. I am listening. More coffee? More tea?