Written in haste, not care, so as to capture a feeling slipping rapidly away with the rising of the sun

Over the last few weeks or perhaps months, my nights have looked like a cliche. All the online chatter about 3am wakeups is either contagious or simply true; no matter how I am living my daytime hours, it seems that everything conspires to wake me up in the wee hours, when the existential crises of this particular time and place in life come out to play. Yes, I’ve tried the eye gymnastics and “writing it down” and leaving the bed for a quiet, dark space. The awakenings persist; even hormone therapy no longer holds the line for me.

However, there is virtually always a good side to the bad…the proverbial silver lining. This morning was a magical testament to that truth.

After waking a bit later than the usual window (but far earlier than necessary to begin the day) and making the obligatory trip to the restroom, I heard something. Sound seems to carry farther in the dark; with no light on and the trees outside the window crowding out any ambient light, the darkness itself felt loud as I stood completely still. And there it was – again – that sound. The quiet, understated hooting of a Great Horned Owl.

Now, this isn’t terribly unusual for this area, although in my six years in this house, I’ve heard an owl maybe once or twice. However, the magic of that sound coupled with a dark October night was mesmerizing. I had to hear it outside for myself (was I simply imagining things?).

October has long been my favorite month. As a young child in Louisiana, our behind-the-fence neighbors were empty nesters who still had all the trappings of the “fun house” for children, including a trampoline. But what I loved most in their collection was a magazine for children called Cricket, which featured narrative stories, poetry, craft ideas, and games. My favorite issue was October, full of changing leaves, spooky tricks and treats, and allusions to the softening of life following the hard work of the harvest. There was a very real pull that I did not fully understand as a child but certainly resonated with. I carried that issue with me for years, and as it disappeared in one move or another, kept its spirit. It was an absolute serendipity, many years later, that I was engaged and then married in October, sealing its status as my favorite for all time.

So – anything that happens in October feels magical, nothing more so than hearing that owl in the darkness. I had to know if it was real. So, downstairs I crept, slipping on shoes in the mudroom and opening the front door as gently as possible. Closing it behind me, I stood still for a moment, feeling the unfamiliar coolness of dry, autumn air (the first of the year). And there it was – hoo HOO, hooooo, hooooo. As I looked up and around to see where it might be, there was the moon, a bowl cradling Jupiter in the night (morning?) sky. And I heard it again…and the answer from another. Enchanted, I sat on the front step, next to the pumpkins we placed just a couple of days ago. In the stillness, I listened as the answer of a third owl emerged.

A dark sky with a stunning show in the Heavens. Cool air soothing a body (and mind) in fight or flight. Gentle moonlight revealing ordinary trees and rocks and pumpkins as the faeries’ domain. And the ancient, mysterious sound of the owls, calling to one another long before anything else stirs. Were it not for the dreaded wee hour awakening, these moments of magic would have passed, unknown to me.

What a gift, is October.