Sleeps With the Swallows
The Iowa night was darker than usual due to the clouds. I carried a giant flashlight with me as I crossed the yard to the barn.
I thought that it was reasonable to set my tent up in the barn at my friend's farm. The house was full of women visiting for the weekend and I really wanted space to myself. I knew that my tent could not withstand a storm, but I thought the barn would give me the needed protection from the elements. Several of the women questioned my decision and were doubtful. I felt a bit defensive, but began to question myself as they talked about the dark and the hole in the floor and the creatures in the barn. The doubt reared up again as I got to the barn and startled several swallows who began to fly around. The movement was disconcerting, but I thought of myself as a swallow (who was distressed at the intrusion, nothing more) and assured myself that I would be better off once I got to the hay loft where my tent was set up.
As I climbed the ladder, I set off even more swallows in the hay loft who were distressed at my entrance. I crawled into my tent and immediately felt safe and comfortable. I knew that the decision to sleep there was a good one.
My tent has enough room for an air mattress and not much else. It was purchased by my father to backpack in Colorado. The first summer it was used (25 years ago?) it went up the Rockies on my dad's back. We slept on light bedrolls in those days. These days I don't camp without my air mattress. And sheets. I camp with sheets in a hayloft. Good grief, the tent thinks.
I lay in the hot Iowa night listening to the swallows settle down. I settled myself. I gave into the light support of the air mattress and tried to locate the exact spot of the bullfrog by traveling on the sound out the open hayloft door, across the road, to the pond and into the tall grass. I drifted to sleep.
I awoke in the night whent the storm hit - lightening, rain and thunder. The wind made the hay loft door swing back and forth and at one point it slammed shut. I lay still and felt grounded, though I was up high. I felt a part of the storm and nature and time. I searched myself for fear and felt none. I fell back asleep.
What woke me this morning were the swallows. I had no idea that swallows made so much noise. They have a chirping sound followed by a trilling sound. I could tell which of them were talking to each other as I lay and came slowly into consciousness. I gave up trying to sleep as their chatter continued. I unzipped the tent and went in seacrh of coffee in the farm house.
I greeted the women in the yard and house with a smile and nod. I am at a Silent Retreat this weekend. We are not talking or having any unnecessary sound (music, tv, radio, etc.).
Tonight I will sleep again with the swallows. And I might even talk back.
I thought that it was reasonable to set my tent up in the barn at my friend's farm. The house was full of women visiting for the weekend and I really wanted space to myself. I knew that my tent could not withstand a storm, but I thought the barn would give me the needed protection from the elements. Several of the women questioned my decision and were doubtful. I felt a bit defensive, but began to question myself as they talked about the dark and the hole in the floor and the creatures in the barn. The doubt reared up again as I got to the barn and startled several swallows who began to fly around. The movement was disconcerting, but I thought of myself as a swallow (who was distressed at the intrusion, nothing more) and assured myself that I would be better off once I got to the hay loft where my tent was set up.
As I climbed the ladder, I set off even more swallows in the hay loft who were distressed at my entrance. I crawled into my tent and immediately felt safe and comfortable. I knew that the decision to sleep there was a good one.
My tent has enough room for an air mattress and not much else. It was purchased by my father to backpack in Colorado. The first summer it was used (25 years ago?) it went up the Rockies on my dad's back. We slept on light bedrolls in those days. These days I don't camp without my air mattress. And sheets. I camp with sheets in a hayloft. Good grief, the tent thinks.
I lay in the hot Iowa night listening to the swallows settle down. I settled myself. I gave into the light support of the air mattress and tried to locate the exact spot of the bullfrog by traveling on the sound out the open hayloft door, across the road, to the pond and into the tall grass. I drifted to sleep.
I awoke in the night whent the storm hit - lightening, rain and thunder. The wind made the hay loft door swing back and forth and at one point it slammed shut. I lay still and felt grounded, though I was up high. I felt a part of the storm and nature and time. I searched myself for fear and felt none. I fell back asleep.
What woke me this morning were the swallows. I had no idea that swallows made so much noise. They have a chirping sound followed by a trilling sound. I could tell which of them were talking to each other as I lay and came slowly into consciousness. I gave up trying to sleep as their chatter continued. I unzipped the tent and went in seacrh of coffee in the farm house.
I greeted the women in the yard and house with a smile and nod. I am at a Silent Retreat this weekend. We are not talking or having any unnecessary sound (music, tv, radio, etc.).
Tonight I will sleep again with the swallows. And I might even talk back.
posted by Lea at 7:54 AM
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