Sonoma's "night life"

So one of the drawbacks of this not-so-crazy, many-horse-town is...at night, after dinner hours you can hear a pin drop from town from where I live, 8 miles away. There is a sports bar, an Irish Pub with live bluegrass, and the "Blue Moon."

The first time I moved to Sonoma (yes I moved there twice in 2008) I worked and lived at the Trojan Horse Inn. Abby, from my Culinary class, spotted the "Blue Moon" across the street from the inn and told me she saw the dive in Bon Appetite, and were known for amazing desserts. I honestly could say I only knew that motorcycles populated the building's exterior and often.

One night I am in the mood for something sweet and I cross the street. After struggling to find the front door which is actually a back door, and weaving my way through the crowd (not my sort of crowd) rocking out and thrashing out to the live band, I stumble, but not from over consumption of beverage, into the bar area. I squeeze my normal looking self in between the leather clad. Sticking out like a well-manicured-thumb the bartender quickly makes his way over to me. I shout over the wailing music that I am curious about their talked about homemade desserts. Of course "to-go" would have been my next response, but instead I am quickly cut off and told the facts. They only serve hot dogs and last call for wieners is at 9.

I think Abby must have read about the "Harvest Moon" which is now my favorite restaurant in Sonoma, and yes the homemade desserts are seasonal and delicious.

The first night on the farm was when I became accustomed to a whole other type of "night life." A woke up three times that night to the mini donkeys in the field speaking their minds to the otherwise still darkness lite by thousands of stars. Every night,there after, I slept pretty soundly, especially after my two cats moved in. The one always provides extra warmth to my already cozy bedtime existence. The occasional soft calling dove-like sound of the screech owl adds to the chorus of crickets and frogs that give their harmonizing all, nightly. While the mini-fridge's constant hum and the heaters occasional up-chucking definitely do detract. When all is quiet, the ceiling comes alive. Unfortunately a colony of mice do rent the space above my barn pad. I wonder if a couldn't talk some barn owls into permanently evicting these less desired tenants, but I think they are unreachable, tucked between the ceiling and the roof. Luckily for me I do have two cats that are always game for a round of mouse pin ball. These mice too have become a fabric in the backdrop canvas of sound that serenades my dreams.

After getting used to "Macho Burro" reemphasizing again and again his maleness to all of Sonoma day-in and day-out. It was eerie when one night his honks where replaced by a truer call of the wild. Through the night a band of coyotes' sang their praise to mother earth, silencing the burros. The last thing these "burritos" desire is becoming a midnight snack. It was a noisier night than usual with the coyote chatter and the barks of all the sleep deprived, local dogs. I woke up numerous times to promptly tune-in to the coyotes' calls. On the currents of their voices' sound waves, I traveled purposefully back to a dream world available solely for my subconscious. Each time I reawoke I would listen with a sense of wonder at their mystery. Though in and out of consciousness my soul remained attentive the whole night through.