Beware of the Man-Eating Mattresses

One third of our lives is spent in sleep.

At 70 yrs, I have spent 23.3 years in slumber.

That’zzz a whole lotta zzzzzz time.

In my lifetime, all this sleep has taken place inside 4 walls.

& the occasional backpacking hike in which I camped out,

or as a kid in my backyard.

This summer we set up our dome tent outside on the 3rd floor deck.

We have fine-tuned our tools over previous summer attempts

to now make our outside sleeping experience very comfy & super cosy.

This summer we have slept outside for 12 continuous weeks or 84 nights.

In this span of time I have learned, observed, & understood

so much more about nature.

I now conclude that the 4 walls sleep

is somewhat stifling & confining.

& outside the box sleeping

promotes well-being.

________________________________________________________________________________

Our luxurious sleeping under the stars checklist of gear includes :

- Assembling the dome tent without using the fly or roof covering.

This enables a view thru the tent’s sky light roof of

nothing but net star gazing.

- Installing wrap around waterproof curtains that extend from

the eaves to the decking that glide on a track which are

pulled round the tent to protect us from the elements.

- Stacking two 2.5” thick Japanese mats for sleeping upon.

We adopted these mattresses after back surgery ($85 each& portable) & found their support much more comfortable. So we gladly discarded the thousands of dollars huge-mungus cumber- & burden-some over-stuffed & over-rated Sealy Back-Curvature Posture Pedic

Sink-hole Man-Eating, so-called-&-so-not-firm, mattress.

- Moving a solid & not spring-loaded metal elevated mattress frame ($57) inside the tent, so the mats are off the ground and do not get moldy from dampness. Being higher up off the floor, the vista visibility

is much greater.

- Using a 9.5 lb. cochineal* magenta hand-dyed hand spun

hand-crocheted pure wool full-sized 5.5ft X 5.5ft. afghan.

I made this hefty hand spun 50 yrs ago, & now I feel that it

was made specifically just for these evenings. The hefty is

spread out atop the airy light down comforter & weighs down

the down, keeping it in place & keepszzz uszzzz

zzzsuper warm & toaszzzty.

- A daily airing out of the tent when the sun shines,

so the insides get oven baked. The hefty one & the down

comforter also get an airing over the deck railing,

soaking up the smell of the sunshine & the breeze.

__________________________________________________________________________________

In choosing to slumber outside, I am flabberghasted

over all the countless astounding new observations

that are now available to me.

And are available to me only outside.

All this had always been there.

I was too buszzy

zzzsleeping

inszzzide

4 walls

to take notice

or be aware of

all the abundantly,

splendid,

plentiful,

rich & varied

Soundzzz,

Sightzzz,

& Sensationzzz

that are all outside at night all night long.

Merely waiting to be delightfully discovered.

_______________________________________________________________________________

The beginning of the summer season’s nights were filled with many wonders.

To retire with a somewhat lit up sky was odd.

No stars out. Sometimes soft pastels of sunsets span the celestial space. Ah, wondrous colors ! As night progressed & darkened, the stars slowly lit up. Some nights the full moon was brilliant and bright white,

lighting up the outside like daylight. Hello Moon.

Sometimes it was curtains. For tamping down this high wattage.

In the early summer season mornings, we told time using a tree.

We called it our tree o’clock.

We knew what time it was by which Timex branches were illuminated.

And, over the span of the summer season, time slowly altered and the sun light slowly appeared later & later. We regularly reset our Rolex tree o’clock by small increments of time.

Early summer mornings also held those gorgeous hues of the sunrise colors, besides some fantastical dreamy cloud patterns for added texture. Some whispys, some bobbly, some streaky see-thru ribbons.

It was really sensational to be in-tune

with the sun’s & the moon’s rhythms.

Full moon or new moon ?

What color of moon ?

Where will the path arc & curve thru the trees.

The beauty of spending a long span of time outside in nature makes one so aware of the gradual natural shifts that evolve.

Over the summer season the arcs of both the orbits of the sun & moon

gradually lower to the horizon. Slowly so slowly.

Over the summer season the amount of time the sun & moon

hang out in the skies gradually diminishes. Slowly so slowly.

Another time telling announcement that happened like clockwork

every morning were the roosters. Right before sunrise.

Still no change in lightness, yet, but how did they know sunlight was right around the corner. A nearby rooster crows. Followed by the call & response of another island rooster farther away.

One feels blessed by :

 their daily devout enthusiasms,

we hear their proclamations

of how great it is to be alive for one more day,

& truly enjoy listening to their vitally important celebratory greetings of each & every day. 

" It’s a brand new day hip hip hooray !!"

"It's a brand new day hip hip hooray !!"

At the beginning of the summer season the astronomical amount

of dawn’s birdsong was varied & quite boisterous.

Truly a joy to awaken to this symphony every morning.

So many species. So many melodys. So much zeal. So mucho gusto.

Our beloved Swainson’s thrush with his echo surround sound song is

our fave.

The squeaky peeps of the tiny ones closeby made me smile.

The robin’s tune so recognizable.

Morning doves join in.

A bird we named “water-droplet.”

What bird sings toodeetweeettooddeeetweetydootwee-toot-toot.

A bird sounding like kisses chsk chsk.

A bird that kept repeating : “Whhaaaaat?”

A bird in the distance answering the "what"

bird back with : “Gotcha.”

What a concert of conversation.

Thank you my homies in the hood.

Another local bellower made appearances that were less predictable.

They were not clocked into any time sequence.

Midnights, early mornings, whhhoooo knewww when they will hooooot ?

Those barred owls have a distinct :

“whoot whoot dee doo, whoot whoot dee dooooooooo.” call.

A sole barred would shout out & then wait for a response back

from another barred. Sure enough, a far away reply back.

When they locate each other, then the crazy begins.

The solemn whoot whoots change into high pitched

hoootenanny screeching shrieking squealing shrilling,

a crazed coo-coo cacophony of bedlam, mayhem,

& chaos, followed by quiet.

The first time I heard this racket I was dumbfounded.

I had no idea this variety of sounds even existed.

Or that it could originate inside the bitsy beaks of the little barred ones.

As the summer season progressed, so did my awareness of reoccurring sounds. A sole car every night shows up below, stops at a mailbox, & then drives up the lane. Same time. Right at dawn. I imagine : does this sole driver work off island, kayak across when the ferry is not running this late, & then drive home every night ??

Later in summer, less bird song. More tree frog croaking & creeeek-ing. The crystal clear creeeeek sound, as if microphoned & amplified.

Sounding more like some giant ogre slowly walking

across rickety wooden floorboards in outer spacial lands.

One after another, a bird species would not be contributing & was pined for & missed, because we knew that they were now airborne in migration.

Steadily, the nights got darker earlier by minutes.

Steadily, the temperatures got chillier by degrees

The morning darkness lingered later,

& we could not rely anymore upon our cherished tree o’clock. It was broken.

We recognized other features :

Blinking satellites traveling by.

Perseids meteor shower showed.

Pleiades** appear high & distinct.

The typical rush of car traffic from the first ferry boat of the day.

Out of all we experienced

when sleeping outside,

the sensations were by far

thee most extra-xtra-ordinary.

First and foremost,

because we were outside,

& the night air is on our face,

& we're breathing the cool fresh air, ...

this, definitely, was the biggest advantage of sleeping outside because it enabled us to sleep

at a much much deeper level of sleep.

This quality of the sound sleep experienced was the primary number one ten gold stars gift benefit reward that was granted to us, the sleepers of outside sleeping. Phenomenal sound deep sleep. It's all here. Sleep like a log hit the hay lights out sleep tight hit the sack & most appropriately sleep like a rock.

One other unusual sensation

experienced via outside sleeping

was a purely magical one.

I kept watch on the weather forecast to be sure we had curtains closed

for rains. One night I lay inside the tent & for the longest duration

of time I was in the liminal state of the in-between. Neither awake nor asleep. Yet I was aware of this tickling sensation upon my face. When I finally did open my eyes & realize that misty rain droplets were falling,

I was happily delighted. It was a fun wow unexpected surprise. I lay there

& took it all in before slowly, almost begrudgingly, getting up to draw the curtains round the tent.

And on retroflection, I observed how I paused, relished, & did not freak out act nutty & jump up screaming oh no !! we gettin’ rained on !! As if it was all a big bad thang. Not in the least.

It was enchanting.

There are so many rewards

& advantages to sleeping out

of doors.

I recall that as a real young kid, I used to prefer sleeping all alone in my pup tent summertimes in the backyard of the house I grew up in. An I'll do it my way type kid who sold Burpee seeds door to door & this was my well-earned prized possession, a stiff heavy green all canvas crunchy pup tent 2 wooden poles a flap with two ribbon ties for a door sleeping bag & green grass underneath mom's laundry poles and stars overhead.

I am a 70 yrs. young'un & am enjoying

this odd childhood preference once again.

What this does for my spirit

is reignite all those simpler similar familiar kid feelings.

I am a kid again, a great big kid, re-living this experience.

... sleeping outside

makes me feel

oh so very young.

& alive.

& much more connected to nature,

to the skies,

to the heavens,

to the stars,

& the music of the spheres,

the rhythms of ethos,

to sweet dreams,

to the don't let the bed bugs bite.

to the hood I live in.

the animal calls,

the coyotes,

the woof dogs,

the far away distant train whistle,

the foghorn of a cargo ship.

the breeze,

the temperature,

all that is surrounding me.

I am more a part

of my world.

I feel more connected

to my self.

because of this night time

exercise of awareness.

I live quite secluded inside a forest,

yet, now,

my wider experience

of this space is so full & so rich.

All right outside the door, waiting for me to see.

To See in the darkness. All the beauty of night.

*Thousands of years ago, however, Mesoamericans discovered that

pinching an insect found on prickly pear cacti yielded a blood-red stain on fingers and fabric. The tiny creature—a parasitic scale insect known as *cochineal—was transformed into a precious commodity. Breeders in Mexico’s southern highlands began cultivating cochineal, selecting for both quality and color over many generations.

The results were spectacular. The carminic acid in female cochineals could be used to create a dazzling spectrum of reds, from soft rose to gleaming scarlet to deepest burgundy. Though it took as many as 70,000 dried insects to make a pound of dye, they surpassed all other alternatives in potency and versatility.

Once there was a color so valuable that emperors and conquistadors coveted it, and so did kings and cardinals. Artists went wild over it. Pirates ransacked ships for it. Poets from Donne to Dickinson sang its praises. Scientists vied with each other to probe its mysteries. Desperate men even risked their lives to obtain it. This highly prized commodity was the secret to the color of desire—a tiny dried insect that produced the perfect red.

( From SmartHistory )

** All the seven sisters showed up late late in the night, almost early morn. The "Seven Sisters" refers to the Pleiades star cluster, named after a myth in Greek mythology about seven nymphs, daughters of Atlas, who were pursued by the hunter Orion and transformed into doves and then stars by Zeus to save them. Their names were Maia, Electra, Alcyone, Taygete, Asterope, Celaeno, and Merope.