Big Rains

Nothing to be done. The power was out, so I backed my chair over to the patio doors and there was just enough light to read. Got up to harvest rain water and eat a platter of roasted root vegetables I had cooked in the toaster oven. Rereading Peter Matthiessen and loving it. "Killing Mister Watson" right now, that wonderful feel he has of place. When the power comes back on, early evening, I heat up water, shave, wash my hair, take a sponge bath. Feeling more nearly human, I cooked a small steak, to go with the last of the vegetables. Wondered how the dug-out catchment handled the rain, but I'll see for myself tomorrow. Shovels at eight. Then town, to pay bills and lunch with TR, final opera discussion before his marriage and honeymoon, maybe a soccer match on the big screen at the pub. If form holds true, someone will buy me a beer, ask me over to their table (I actually prefer sitting at the bar) and we'll talk about the price of coffee or the level of peat smoke in a particular single malt. I couldn't stay for the festivities, because I needed to bathe ahead. Running hot water? Only in my wildest dreams. Carl smelled of old books and leather (Dzing!), Christine smelled white, like peonies with a trace of patchouli, Patsy smelled like natural vanilla. Later, I'd closed down Black Dell, turned off the AC, and opened some windows; napping on the sofa, in boxer shorts and a sleeveless tee-shirt, on my side, with a pillow between my bony knees, and all hell breaks loose at the compost heap. A small black bear, a yearling male, is digging for bones and two stupid dogs have challenged his right to dig there. Odd thing about bears is that their claws don't retract. I think I read that somewhere, I could be making it up. One of the dogs makes a move and the bear just swats him aside. Blood is black in the dark, but I'm pretty sure the dog is bleeding. The other dog backs away, tail between its legs, growling. Clearly the bear is king-of-the-hill. I turn off the porch light and go back to sleep. Nothing I can do.

Tom

Fireflies
rule the ridge,
summer light show.