LIFE, not life, but LIFE has a funny way of making you do things. I often wake up at 5, see that it's cold and inhospitable and go back to sleep. This morning I again awoke at 5. Thought the same thing (in my defense, we are having another cold snap) and closed my eyes for another hour of blissful repose. Then my ears were cleaved by the staccato scream of the fire alarm. Poor Natalia was just waking up, having a leisurely downward dog cat stretch when it went off. She levitated off the bed and landed somewhere in the living room. I plugged my ears while R found a broom handle and silenced the alarm. Under torture I would spill anything in the first 30 seconds of a fire alarm at close quarters.

So there I was, crouched on the side of the bed when it occurred to me that LIFE had intervened and I'd better get up. In the book The Right to Write, the author suggested that one way to foster creativity was to get up and write three pages (by hand) first thing in the morning. First thing meaning before coffee or ablutions or getting dressed. The only exception was that one could empty one's bladder first. I did that three pages for a few years. Impossible now. For one thing I'm older and feel that a hot sweet coffee is imperative before facing anything of consequence, even if I can only have a sip or two before starting the animal chores. The other thing is of course the animals, specifically the three cats. They have learned not to shout while I shut myself in the bathroom to wash my face and get dressed but as soon as the door is opened they are at my feet, mouths agape, emitting a feline version of the fire alarm. Quieter perhaps but more intense as it's multiplied by three pairs of laser beam blue and green and yellow eyes.

Cats fed I thought would it be better to take my coffee and sit on the deck to enjoy the morning symphony while the sun rose or come in here and stare at a monitor? Of course if I go outside to sit in zen like silence and absorb the serenity of a new dawn I have to ignore the dogs, the birds and the horses, two of which are locked up overnight and hang over the gate nickering as soon as they hear the front door. The dogs need to be greeted and tucked back into bed to stay warm and the birds? The birds are more difficult and I'm not even talking about the aviary birds. There is a male king parrot, I call him Elvis (The King) who does not take no for an answer. He flies to the hot water tank in front of the kitchen window to get my attention first thing in the morning. He's hard to miss dressed as he is in scarlet and forest green. I say good morning while making coffee and lorikeet food but don't drop everything to rush out and feed him. This is poor service and he lets me know it. When I finally do go out with food tray in hand, he is on the gutter upside down, to continue his harangue. When I put the tray in the gazebo, he is there. When I walk to the yards he is with me. When I finally go to the garage, he lands on the boat, increases the volume of his squeaks and squawks and can hardly keep himself from flying to my hand to grab the seed container. So there really is, in this household at least, no such thing as a zen like morning of serenity and silence and peace.

It is of course a creation of my own making. Even as I type this, Dimitri honks on the verandah, Tachimedes, also on the verandah, does his version of the keening call of an inmate in a padded room and Natalia meows to be let out of the laundry (she is fed separately as she is on special food). But it is 6am and R asked that I wake him for he has an early appointment - and so the day begins.