Last night, there was a storm. A humdinger electric, cymbals kettledrums bass guitars thumping flashing storm that cleared the air after three unsually hot days. I lay in bed restless as I have been for the last couple of nights, in full admiration of what nature can produce. That storm has passed but now the air is full of dust that is hiding the hills and the wind is still whipping around. The power has only just been restored to Dalhousie.
The wind also whipped open the door to the cottage as I slept after lunch. That sleep has become a bit of a habit now as I wake early before 6am and make a cup of chai before sitting outside on the verandah as the sun rises. An open door is an invitation to the monkeys that live a large numbers around here and they took it. When I woke, the bananas in the fruit bowl had been eaten leaving the skins behind, the remnants of my loaf of bread was scattered all over the verandah and a tomato lay squashed on the kitchen floor. I'm glad I slept through it all. My bedroom door was open and it or however many there were, thankfully did not consider me tasty enough.
Another lesson learnt.