Posted tagged ‘thunder’

“Happiness is when you are content with who you are, what you are, and where you are.”

April 28, 2017

The morning has already been a strange one. Gracie woke me up at seven. It was legitimate. She ran into the backyard. I got the paper. Notice I said paper. The Boston Globe wasn’t there. I put my coffee on and sat down to read the Cape Times. I heard a rumble. It sounded like a big truck on my street, but then the rumbling started again. It was thunder, mighty loud thunder. My lights went out. It was only for a few minutes but was a major nuisance. I had to reset my CD player, my microwave and my coffee maker which had totally stopped in mid-brew. It took me longer to get everything on time than the electricity had been off.

After the election, I decided not to be the political news junkie I had been, but that was like my making my yearly New Year’s resolutions which I never seem to keep. I can’t stay away from what is happening. The worst is yesterday’s Trump comment, “There’s a chance there will be a major, major conflict with North Korea, absolutely.” I wonder, though, how enthused South Korea is about all this since they just received their bill from President Trump who wants South Korea to pay around $1 billion for the deployment of the Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) battery. South Korea said no. The Korean nuclear problem is, of course, Obama’s fault. Flynn’s disregard for the law is also Obama’s fault. Building the wall has now become a metaphor. We should have known Trump meant building up security around the border.

I have to go to the dentist this morning to have my teeth cleaned. I have a few errands after that. Gracie and I went to the dump yesterday. It wasn’t on my list, but the trash in the trunk needed to go. It had been a bit long. I had to open all the car windows.

Gracie and I went to the dump yesterday. It wasn’t on my list, but the trash in the trunk needed to go. It had been a bit long. I had to open all the car windows.

When I was a kid, my father used to drag the trash barrels to the sidewalk on the morning of the trash pickup. He’d get mad if he found the empty barrels still on the sidewalk when he got home. We didn’t really care when he blustered at us about our laziness. We looked interested, but it was a blah, blah, blah thing. That’s a skill kids learn early.

I’m back, and I am a bad mother to Gracie. I put her in her crate and left. When I got home, there was dog poop on the PeeWee pads I keep down for the cat. There were a couple of small piles off the paper and a trail into the kitchen. Gracie was standing in the living room wagging her tail for all she is worth. It seems I closed but didn’t latch the crate. Gracie is a nervous wreck loose in the house when I’m not here. She loves being safe in her crate. I was just surprised Gracie figured out what the pads were as she never used them.

It’s time to take off my outside clothes for my comfy clothes. I’m having Chinese food for lunch, leftover from dinner last night. Gracie is happy, Maddie is sleeping. All’s right wit the world.

 

“Genius is an African who dreams up snow.”

February 10, 2017

It is 1:30. The wind is still raging, but the snow has stopped. Most of the snow was wet and heavy, and in the late afternoon a downed wire cut off my electricity. I sat for a while reading, but because the house was getting a bit cooler, Gracie and I headed upstairs to take a nap. I was thinking warm down comforter. I don’t know what Gracie was thinking. I could hear the branches brushing against the house, against the wall in my bedroom. Then I heard a crash. I ran downstairs, opened the front door and saw nothing but branches. They extended from a giant branch, half of a pine tree, now lying across my front yard. It was torn off the tree by the wind. Its branches are near the front door and have cut me off from the outside world. Poor Gracie had to go out among the branches. It took three times before she decided it was branches or nothing.

I went to bed around 2:30. Gracie woke me up around 4. She was shaking. She was also panting: signs that Gracie needed to go outside. She wouldn’t get off the bed so I had to help her. We got down the stairs to the door and she went outside and did her business just this side of the branches.

I’m hoping my landscape guy comes today to free me. I know Skip will be here to plow and shovel as soon as he can. Right now the day is beautiful to look at, all sunny and bright, but that’s deceiving. It is only 20˚. I guess I’m okay for now with being stuck in the house, the warm house.

This was a terrific snow storm. It even had thunder. We probably got near a foot of snow. It covers everything. I couldn’t see out the back windows until a little while ago, but the sun is still the sun so the windows are clear again.

Looks like we have to postpone dump day.

“Walking through puddles is my favorite metaphor for life.”

September 10, 2015

The thunder shook my house, and I can still hear rumbles in the distance. The rain is heavy. There are no individual drops, no pitter-patter on the windows. It is a pounding rain, a raining cats and dogs sort of rain. I hope it stays this way the whole day. The summer was dry so every bit of rain is welcomed.

I never had rain boots, only snow boots. My shoes always got wet and most times my socks did too. I always thought it was funny when my socks left wet footprints on the floor. My mother didn’t see the humor. I never had an umbrella either, but I didn’t care. Carrying one in case of rain seemed too big a burden. I already had my lunch box and my school bag. Besides, only the prissy girls seemed to have umbrellas.

I hated having to stay inside during recess on rainy days. That we were allowed to talk and walk around just wasn’t enough. After sitting all morning, we really needed to be able to be outside to play a while, to jump rope or chase each other.

The second half of rainy days were dreadful. I remember clock watching and daydreaming and losing track of the lesson. When that final bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and happily ran outside into the rain.

I saw my first bus yesterday so the season has begun. but I was so taken at the sight of that first bus, I forget to take note of where it was from. Now my life list won’t be complete.

Well, it has stopped raining. The weatherman did say intermittent showers, and he was right. The day got brighter for a bit but it is getting dark again. It will rain soon. I hope this shower stays around a bit longer.

“Tourist, Rincewind decided, meant ‘idiot.”

July 2, 2015

The rain was unbelievable yesterday morning. In only ninety minutes we received 2 1/4 inches of rain. Roads were flooded, trees knocked down by lightning and thunder rumbled overhead the whole time, sometimes close, sometimes far way. When the storm ended, the humidity was stifling, but I had to do some errands so I left right away. Everyone else had the same idea. The dump was crowded and cars were bumper to bumper on the main roads. I sat in traffic and observed what was happening, none too patiently. I decided it was easy to determine the start of tourist season. The parking lot, the grassy areas on the other side of the road and any available space at the movie theater is filled on a rainy day. Two light cycles is the average waiting time at any red light. People curse you when you’re already on the rotary after you nearly hit their cars when they jump into rotary traffic. It is obvious the rules of a rotary are foreign to many people. Four way stops? Nope, no etiquette there. We all take turns at the stop signs, but not the man from Connecticut. He went right through a few seconds after the car in front of him. After two cars nearly hit him, they honked, and he looked bewildered. Cars on 6A go slowly and the driver and passengers gawk and swivel their heads from one side to the other. They point. Supermarkets run out of carriages. They are strewn all over the parking lot. Beaches fill by ten. Restaurants serving seafood fill by 6. We have learned to eat dinner at 5. Yesterday my last stop was Agway, a joyful spot, a place totally ignored by tourists.

When I got home and brought everything inside, I was sweating from every pore in my body. My shirt was soaked in the back, and my hair was curling from the humidity. I shut the windows and turned on the AC. I took a shower. a barely warm shower. My feet eventually got cold. That was a delight.

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

April 27, 2014

Today is the same as yesterday: rainy and damp, the sort of damp which brings a chill. It’s socks and sweatshirt weather.

Today while I was watching the rain fall I realized I have seen wonders all of my life. When I was a little kid, falling snow was mesmerizing. Each flake fell gently and silently and glistened in the street light. I watched from the front window to make sure the street was getting covered. That gave me hope for a snow day. Thunder and lightning never scared me; instead, I was delighted. The flickering black and white TV screen was like magic. Every day brought delights some as lowly as a grasshopper caught in a jar and others as lofty as an airplane with a white tail.

When I was older, a teenager, the wonders didn’t cease. My friends and I wandered Harvard Square, went to museums and watched movies at the Orson Wells. We rode toboggans at the golf course and went to drive-in movies for the fun of it. We celebrated Mardi Gras on the third floor of the library with our forbidden food. We felt like rebels. We were there to watch the start of the space race. All of my science fiction stories were coming to life. It was amazing.

College was the wonder of learning new things, of being on my own and of meeting new people from all over the place. My insular life started to disappear. I began to look way beyond my boundaries wondering what was there for me to find. I wanted to experience the unfamiliar, the unexpected and even the uncomfortable.

I couldn’t believe I was actually living in Africa. Everything was a wonder: the colors, the smells and the sounds. Each bus ride was an adventure. Market day was the most fun. I wandered the stalls, bargained and picked out my chicken. The amazing became the commonplace, and I loved every day.

In the summer, I watch the fireflies. In August I sit outside for the meteor shower. I still watch snowflakes fall under the back light. I love Christmas. In my backyard the trees have white lights which shine every night. I love looking at them through the windows. They give the yard a bit of fairyland.

It seems wonder stays with us all of us lives.

“If one mouse is a spark…then ten thousand are a conflagration.”

April 24, 2014

The morning has already been a busy one. I let Gracie out then heard a bang. I turned and saw the gate had flown open. I looked for Gracie hoping she hadn’t escaped and then I saw her still in the yard, close to the gate. I yelled stay as if that had any meaning for Gracie then ran down the stairs and shut the gate. Catastrophe was averted.

The second problem started last night when I went to do laundry. I was about to stuff the clothes in the washer when I noticed a baby mouse in the tub of the washing machine. I used my sweatshirt, captured the tiny thing and just threw him over the fence. I imagine he’ll be back. Figuring there were more, I went looking and found my have-a-heart trap. I tried to set it but one end wouldn’t work. The mouse would have eaten the goodies then left on the side which didn’t close. I decided to use the weird trap I’d bought a while back. It is small, a circular wire cage on a piece of wood. The top has a hole but when the mouse enters the hole it can’t get out because of wire prongs circling the bottom of that hole. In the front is a small escape hatch with a wire hook which I have to open to free the beast. I decided to give it try, threw in some bread and put it in the cellar in a spot I can see from the stairs. This morning I looked and lo and behold I had my first mouse. Gracie and I went for a ride. I stopped to free the beastie, but I couldn’t get it to leave the trap. He held on no matter what I did, including a bit of tail tugging. Finally I banged the wood with the trap door facing the ground and out the mouse fell. He was gone to his new neighborhood in a heartbeat. At least he’d been well fed before the trip.

I changed my bed, finished my book, emptied the litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, did two loads of laundry, caught mice and watered the plants. I need a vacation.

Yesterday it rained all day. At times we had thunder and even some hail. Today is sunny but still a bit chilly. Gracie and I have a leftover errand postponed from yesterday, and that’s it for the day. I’m done in!

“Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine!”

February 14, 2014

The rain fell all day yesterday and last night. It stopped for a bit but only to gather a little more energy because it then began to pour again, to pound the roof, around midnight. After that came the highlight of the storm, the thunder and lightning. I was reading in bed when the whole room was lit by a flash of light then another flash then another. The thunder was a rumble at first which got louder and louder until it became a crash. I stopped reading to listen. Gracie slept right through it. It seemed to thunder for a long time then the rumbling began to fade until it disappeared. The rain fell more quietly having expended all its energy for that one giant blast.

Today was the big day, Valentine’s Day. I’d sit at the kitchen table the night before and in my best handwriting fill in my name on the back and the names of my classmates on the fronts of the envelopes. My mother always bought the valentines with a picture on the front, usually with a corny saying, and a place on the back for my name. Kathleen usually ended up slanted as it’s a long name. I also had to add an R. so everyone would know it wasn’t Kathleen D. or Kathleen L. Those precious valentines were carefully carried to school as were the cookies my mother had made for the party. The week before, during art, we had transformed shoe boxes into valentine boxes.

We had to do regular school work most of the day. It killed us. Our minds were on those envelopes sitting in boxes under our desks. I wondered who would give me valentines and feared not getting one from my secret crush of the week. In those days we didn’t give one to everybody in the class. I think it was more a matter of expense than thoughtlessness. Finally, after eons had passed, the nun would tell us to put our books away. She’d start to clear off her desk to make room for the party food. We’d pull our decorated boxes off the floor onto our desks and sit impatiently waiting for the festivities to start. The nun directed us row by row to walk around and hand out our valentines. We’d sit as classmates walked by and dropped envelopes or didn’t. We never opened them until all of us had taken our turns. It was then the party began. We’d get cookies and candy then sit at our desks and talk and open the valentines. We’d giggle at the ones from boys being young enough still to giggle without being silly. The party lasted until the final school bell when we’d reluctantly clean up and get ready to leave. The valentines went in our boxes and we carried those treasures home as it they were the crown jewels.

I’d sit at the kitchen table and look at those valentines then I’d keep them safe in the box for a long time so I could look again and again.