Call me poor white trash, but there's something magic about sleeping outside on a summer evening. As a kid, we would drag our sleeping bags out on the lawn when the swamp cooler could no longer keep up with the August heat waves. Waking in the morning to the smells of fresh mowed hay, the clucking of hens and the plaintive moos of hungry cows was a reassurance that all would be right in the world that day. Our bags were covered with dew and our pillows damp, but we stayed there in the morning sunshine as long as we could...mainly to avoid the daily chores.
I've had the heebie jeebies (a technical term for restless leg syndrome) for the past two nights, and frankly I just wanted a good night's sleep. What would a normal city girl do? Yea, you're right, take a pill, a shot of tequila, jump in the pool naked...you know what I'm talking about. Me? okay, I took the pill, but I also had the hubby create Shangri la in the back yard.
It was a little distracting to hear the motorcycles roar up the street and the neighbor dog's constant yapping, but the crickets finally won out and I drifted off into a dreamland under the stars.
Try it sometime...you'll understand my weird uncle. I do.
Laurel. Don't forget the feather bed..