It’s 3 AM, do you know where your ducks are? A teeming rain penetrates my much-needed rest and suddenly I’m wide-awake. I left the window open a crack so I could hear if…. I could hear it…. If anything…. I’m too foggy to go on. I close the windows in all the rooms except mine and then attempt to peer into the early morning darkness. The canvas cover glows slightly in the stygian gloom. But all’s quiet. No peep, no quack, no nothing.
I check my trusty outside thermometer. Sixty degrees. A bit cool for a wet night but I’m not a duck. Good thing I didn’t let Pamela stay outside (not that I seriously considered it.) At least, there’s no thunder. Just the determined pelting of raindrops. Hope they got themselves under the shelter. Right. They’re ducks. They can handle wet. Go back to bed, Lori.
I did. And at 6:35 AM, woke up again. Very late by recent standards. The sun sparkled in its pretty hackneyed way. I grabbed my camera and a bowl of poultry pellets. Organic, of course.
I might have woken the girls up. They were resting, not quacking. And they were not under the canvas cover, naturally. They posed for a few wobbly snapshots then I fed and watered them, trying not to think too much about this scenario come December.
More importantly, it’s 6:49 AM, do I know where my coffee is?
Copyright 2012, Lori Fontanes