May 13, 2014
These Hot Spring Nights
It’s half an hour past midnight, and I am standing in the darkened bathroom, just having brushed my teeth. This is the room from which I can actually hear what’s going on outside. My bedroom fan, employed 24/7, for the purpose of fresher air and noise cancellation, is only a distant hum.
From my sink, I can hear the persistent cricket scrape, backdropped by Mr. Arthur, our local mockingbird, who is singing a few last bars before bed…unless he decides to strike up the choir again in an hour or two, as he has been known to do. In fact, there he goes again, after a brief hiatus. He is just too happy to keep it to himself.
It is a warm night in early May, and tomorrow will be a hot night in early May. My friend saw our forecast and pronounced it “Africa hot.”Two streetlights are out, the moon is almost full. The night feels like anticipation, though of what I am uncertain.
Where I live is a blend of city and not. The distant train horn, the occasional ruffle of a car alarm, the single speeding motorcycle mark it as city. The crickets and bird and sound of hot air feel not-city. The dog bark a half mile away, the cat wail, could be either. It is relatively peaceful as yet.
Tomorrow, with twenty extra degrees and more wind, the crank factor will increase and I expect to hear more unrest, the ghetto bird (police helicopter) making its spotlight rounds, an occasional shout or protesting voice, more car alarms.
But for tonight, I’ll take the peace and crickets before I repair to my fanswept bed and drown all sound but white.