Passing Strange

A night of weird sounds. First a tree fell in the forest. So much rain, the ground is so soft, another tree-tip pit opens for exploration. If I can find the damned thing, as my sense of direction, with wind and rain, is completely lost. I want to get out, to see the extent of flooding, not in any sense morbid, but just to see the actual map. The Boone Coleman heirs will be paid a lot of money for not raising soybeans. Then a severe thunder cell, wind and hard rain. Being pelted I thought, and I hadn't used or even thought the word 'pelt' for anything other than an animal skin with the fur attached, but I awoke with the word 'pelted' on my mind. To pelt, as to rage. Shakespeare, King Lear, "That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm." Then, in a lull, an argument at the compost pile. Sounds like cats and dogs to me and I don't want to get involved. I have to get up, any chance at sleep is lost, and I'd rather read than toss and turn. Any given time, I have three or four books waiting to be read. There's a book at the island, if I happen to eat there, there's a book (a small pile) on the stairs; I keep some books in the Jeep, and carry a book in my pocket; for years I kept an unabridged dictionary in the back seat. You can't be too careful, the scree slope, the slippery slope, two steps forward, one step back. Cha cha cha. I'm in a particularly good mood, which I attribute to not listening to the news, and I have the last of the cheese grits with cracklings, an egg on top, a piece of whole grain toast with marmalade, settle in with a book and a second cup of coffee. I'm reading everything I can find about Z, that earlier culture in the Amazon. I've always been suspect of dating things in the Americas. I'd been napping, and had the radio very low, so I couldn't understand what was being said, but they seemed to be talking about marrow extraction and how it was similar to the way marrow was extracted a hundred thousand years earlier. I make a mental note to pick up some marrow bones. I have a spoon that may actually be a marrow spoon. I love sharp greens and fried green tomatoes with this, English Cucumber sandwiches, something with a snap. I hardly ever skin anything anymore, potatoes and squash; potatoes especially, for the last year or so, have been especially good, because the skins fall off and brown as these delectable bits when I make fried potatoes. I admit to a penchant for fried potatoes.