Good morning! It’s that time of year again – the time when I bring my tropical houseplants indoors. And even though I’ve carefully checked all of the pots to make sure I’m not bringing in any unintended hitchhikers, and this includes tipping them and checking the bottoms for scorpions – even though – I still have a moment’s pause when both of the cats stare fixedly at a spot on the floor nearby. I’m convinced that they’ve cornered some unknown phantasmagoria.
But of course, there is nothing. Cats have the ability to see things that I, a mere human, cannot. I wonder if they are seeing into other dimensions, greeting spectral visitors from other realms. Or perhaps they can see parts of the electromagnetic spectrum that are invisible to me.
Whatever the cause, it freaks me out when my cats stare at things that I can’t see.
But right now they’re staring out the patio doors as squirrels scamper around gathering my discarded almonds. Yes, I know I shouldn’t do this. But I don’t like almonds. So approximately a third of every can of mixed nuts gets flung onto the ground under the big oak tree out back for them to forage.
The cats are obsessed. They’re strictly indoor creatures and they watch with infinite patience, sometimes emitting strange sounds that I’m sure are a sign of frustration.
The air is crisp this morning, even though by this afternoon I’ll be wearing short sleeves. Fall is the time of year that makes me want to write time travel stories and portal stories – stories of extra dimensions and sentient trees and doors where there should be none. It’s the time of year when early mornings can bring frost, or fog, and the probabilities in the low-lying mist are endless.
Some people don’t like fog – a friend of mine, for instance. She says it makes her feel claustrophobic. Everyone’s got their own triggers. Case in point: I would have no problem traveling into space; I’ve dreamed about it since I was a child. But going under water in a submersible? No way. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen.
The irony of it strikes me. Both scenarios involve climbing into an enclosed vehicle and then thrusting myself into an environment in which I cannot survive. But funnily enough, the thought of expanding into a balloon-animal cartoon version of myself in space, as my body heat radiates away and I lose consciousness from lack of oxygen to the brain, which takes about 15 seconds, isn’t terrifying to me. The thought of being crushed by the pressure of the depths while my lungs fill with water, however, is. Go figure.
In space I am the area of high pressure; in the watery depths I am the low pressure. It’s all about relativity and states of being, and it makes me want to write.
What inspires YOUR creativity?