During the day our new house is delightful, even in the morning fog. But once the sun drops over the horizon, and darkness crawls up to the house, it can sometimes seem a bit creepy.
During the day the garden is alive with birds, but the night-time is the domain of things that rustle alarmingly in the hedges, or our neighbours dogs, who visit to raid our compost bin for tasty titbits. It’s a time for hunting and sudden, violent death. The local cats can be seen, hugging tall walls, or lurking in bushes as they go about the business of hunting the mice, rats and shrews that scuttle about at night, hunting their own prey, and every noise is amplified by the darkness, even fruit falling from the trees sounds sinister.
In the early days, Julie and I would sit, trying not to be nervous, on our concrete landing with an oil lamp or candle, to keep at bay the darkness. We’d look nervously at each other at every rustle and squeak, or jump out of our skins at the splat of a rat leaping from the roof onto the concrete path. Now we’re a bit more relaxed, we’ve got used to the noises of the night, but occasionally we are still startled. One evening as I was doing my rounds I heard a low sort of scrunching noise nearby. My mind immediately conjured the image of an attacking zombie, dragging it’s half-eaten body along the pathway, and I fled back inside, heart pumping. I then realised it was nothing more sinister than the snow on the roof, melting slightly from the day’s sunshine, and sliding slowly down the roof.
The house has its fair share of strange noises to get used to. Insects that creep scratchily under the wallpaper, or fall from the ceiling onto the lino with a loud plop. The occasional rat thunders across the rafters, but they don’t really bother us now.
When the moon is out it’s a magical place. The garden is dappled with silvery light and when the snow is on the ground you hardly feel you can breathe for fear of shattering its stillness.
But the best thing about the night is the stars. On a clear night the Milky Way can be clearly seen, spread across the evening sky like a shawl of light, so many stars that the normal constellations can barely be made out. Orion is peeping above the horizon now, heralding the arrival of winter. Time to get the telescope out, and brave the night garden.
l can picture the scene in my mind’s eye and hear a sound track of spooky music to accompany each move.. shadowy figures of you both tripping across the yard to set up the telescope … cheering to hear you’re still having fun. l do enjoy reading your blog.
Penrith Winter Droving on Saturday, marking the tradition of bringing the beasts down off the fells when the weather changed …. check it out on utube for 2012, probably see a few familiar faces. xCarol
Some lovely descriptions. The stillness and the stars are magical, aren’t they?
Have you ever thought about writing books? You had me sitting on the edge of my seat there !! Love these blogs . Tell Julie we are asking after her xx
I would if I knew who you were!!!
You definitely have a gift for writing! I felt like I was right there with you. I like the sound of a night garden.
Wonderfully descriptive and exciting. I have said before that you should turn all this in to a book, a good activity for those dark evenings.
Beautifully written Joe – you have a real talent for ‘drawing pictures with words’ ! As for the rats…….. erm…. I think Fog needs a friend :~). Stay warm both of you!
love it,,,, hope to see u both again very soon love vic and michelle