Nighttime in the country

At first I think it is the heavy silence that may have awakened me on this chilly autumn night.  But as I lay perfectly still, watching pale blue shadaws linger in the glow from my clock, I hear a distinct crunching noise.  This sound brings me back to my childhood in New Baltimore, where the mice seemed to be chewing through the walls just to get to me in my bed every night--especially the first cold evenings of fall like tonight!  

And as I lay there, hearing the soft breathing of BF (finally home from 10 days in Texas) next to me, I slowly come awake, and realize that the chewing is one of my silly cats, down in the basement (I'm guessing Tess), who has decided to maker her presence known.  But I'm no softy. No sir-ee.  They're both staying down there until 6am.  I can't have them scratching at my door at 4 am.  Nope.  They're just going to have to scratch at the FLOOR. Urgh.  

Actually, the noise has completely stopped since I came out here to the couch to write this.  Now I hear nothing.  And when I say nothing, I mean NOTHING.   No traffic, no birds, no furnace (not on yet), no trains in the distance.  It's unusually quiet here, except for the chittering of my fingers on the keys, and the whir of the laptop fan when I stop typing.  It's nighttime in the country.  Peace.