There is this great poem that I love. Well, I suppose it’s not all that great or really anything special to anyone but me and my mom. It’s called Bed in Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson and if you’d like to read it to your kids it’s a part of his “Child’s Garden of Verses”. She used to recite it to me as a child when I was falling asleep in the heat while under ten home made quilts. The look in her eyes was and is one of the my most favorite memories.
It’s lovely. Recently I was “reading” (memorized long ago) the book of verses aloud to my nephew Joey. Not needing to look at the words, I looked at the little picture of a redheaded girl peaking out her window. I had seen it so many times before but this time it brought me to tears at the recent discovery that I was having a baby girl and because my husband is redheaded and despite my efforts to stop and be considerate of all children I have only been able to look at reddies since I became pregnant. Joey, needless to say, thought I was behaving very strangely.
When deciding what to name the blog Andrew and I joked around about different names. Mostly we laughed at the ones that incorporated swear words of some sort. (We’re very mature) But in the end he said that I had to do something that was meaningful to me. I, being a hyper emotional person, agreed.
So “Bed By Day” came to me and although it took me a few minutes the title struck me as very appropriate considering my lifestyle. I’m a musician and a writer. We have late night rehearsals and performances and we sleep in late. As a writer one is often driven to late night hours simply because of “the muse”. You simply never know when it will show up or when it will disappear. So a good writer takes advantage of the phantom appearances whenever they happen and no matter the hour.I’m soon going to be a mother and though the idea of late night feedings and the ensuing zombiness is not terribly appealing the title of the blog seemed to work for that too. And last but not least…I am most certainly a day dreamer and one who finds it hard to concentrate on anything during waking hours. I often feel like my day dreams are better than my night time dreams simply because I remember them. They are like good friends in a strange, very strange, way.
I thought I might include the poem that inspired the blog:
In Winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle light
In Summer quite the other way
I have to go to bed by day
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping in the trees
And hear the grown up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street
And does it not seem hard to you
When all the sky is clear and blue
And I should like so much to play
To have to go to bed by day