Contemplation

THINGS I LEARNED SITTING IN THE DARK

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“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” ―  Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

My lights went out at 2:15 in the am Friday morning and didn’t come back on until Sunday at 4:15 in the pm. Did I mention there was another Sunday between that Friday and Sunday? And two football Saturdays? With the lights went my well water. Ten days without power and water. I learned a great deal sitting in the dark courtesy of Hurricane Helene. My puppies learned about cursing.

The first thing I learned was that no matter how much you prepare for a hurricane, you forget something. I checked off my list of toilet paper, water, ice, batteries, flashlights, lanterns, snack food, power bars and the like. What could I have forgotten? I should have done a couple of loads of washing, invested in some paper plates, and I should have cooked as much food as I could have from my freezers. Also, I should have considered water to flush with instead of relying on rainwater. I had plenty of rainwater but had to use a sieve to remove leaves and twigs.

I learned that when the lights go out at 2:15 in the am and the clouds are as thick as your brother’s head, it is not just dark, it takes dark to another level. I literally couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and now understood the saying, “as dark as the inside of a cow.” Matches…where did I put those matches? Shit! I left that off my list too.

I learned that all things don’t look better during the light of day, especially if the eye of the hurricane hits at dawn. “Was that the wicked witch on her bicycle?” Couldn’t have been. The rain was falling sideways, and she wasn’t melting.  How long before a tree comes down?

Later in the evening on the first Friday, as the clouds cleared, I ventured outside to view the damage, not too bad in the yard. A lot of debris, a door off a garage, three greenhouse covers damaged, and the limb that had taken the power stack off the side of my house. I wish I hadn’t ventured out of the yard. A goodly number of trees down. Plenty of firewood for several winters.

Long after the hurricane had left us, I had plenty of time for contemplation. The dark seemed to aid the process.

One of my most immediate thoughts was that my forefathers and mothers were made of much sterner stock than I was. Somehow, they survived with outdoor toilets, potbellied stoves, kerosene lamps, and cast-iron frying pans greased up with lard and bacon grease. I didn’t have any lard or bacon grease or a chicken to pluck and fry up.

My only contact with the outside world was a battery powered AM/FM radio that only picked up one station, B 93.7, a contemporary pop channel. As I feared, I am not very contemporary or pop and will invest in a better battery powered radio before the next natural disaster. I didn’t realize radio stations were so repetitive. I heard “A Bar Song” by Shaboozey so much I started to sing along…and it is still playing in a loop in my head.

One thing I didn’t learn. No matter how many times I walked down a hallway and flipped the light switch, the lights weren’t coming on. The first thing I did when the power came back? I flipped that switch just to make sure it worked.

Funny story, unless you were there. With the total darkness the animal life becomes emboldened. As the clock struck one am one night, Cora, my bratty little blue heeler, decided she needed to go out for a potty break and Quigley decided she needed an escort. Cora came back and Quigley decided he was going to stay out…and I let him, leaving the door cracked and the mosquito net in place.

Two hours later, I had fallen asleep and was rudely awakened when all hell broke loose. Seems a possum decided to check out the opened door and both Quigley and Cora decided the animal didn’t belong. Luckily, she made it to the pecan tree just outside. I found both puppies gazing heavenward. My flashlight lit up two beady little eyes staring back at me.

Two days after the lights came back on the little critter decided to try it again. Quigley is still outside barking at him/her.

I don’t want to make light of the situation. I learned how lucky I was compared to the people around me, especially those in Western North Carlina. I have been to many of these places. One of the last drives I took with my wife before she passed was through Chimney Rock. It is unfathomable that there is so much misery and destruction. Chimney Rock, along with many other places, was wiped out.

Mother Nature is a bitch, and I believe we humans are fueling her anger. We cut down her trees and put up paved parking lots and tall stacks belching smoke. With eight billion people, concrete has increased, replacing much of the green, and temperatures have soared with it. It couldn’t be climate change, could it? No, its just Revelations being played out and the end of times.

Much to my mental and emotional discomfort, I once again learned that no matter how devastating the situation, politics are always in play. I probably sat in the dark too long.

No, I definately sat in the dark too long.

***

Don Miller’s latest offering is “Food for Thought.” Essays from the mind of The Mad Southerner.

The Toad in the Corner

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I am bad.  I continue to smoke my one cigar a day…unless it turns into two…never more than two.  I just executed a mental eye roll.  Normally I sit under the massive tulip poplar in my backyard and enjoy an adult beverage while I feed my addiction.  Do I enjoy the cigar due to my addiction or because of the joy it brings me? That is a discussion for a later date.

It’s been hot and humid, and I’ve taken to sitting on my back stoop instead of taking the long, sweaty twenty-five-yard walk to the tree and the chair sitting under it.  My picture should go beside the definition of lazy in the latest dictionary.  It is more about the mosquitoes infesting the shrubbery around my normal imbibing location.  There doesn’t seem to be as many bloodsuckers at my stoop and I may know one of the reasons why.

I sat watching the smoke curl from the smoldering end of my stogie, contemplating nothing more than my navel when I saw her.  In the corner where the rock wall and foundation meet, where the leaves have built up due to my earlier admission of laziness, a large toad had backed herself into the corner and is also watching the smoke curl from the cigar.

She is an American Toad…I think.  Could be a Fowler’s but I am not an authority on amphibians…and don’t want to be but I am better versed in toad activities than I once was.  Thank you, Google.  Despite my research, I don’t even know if she is really a she but shes are usually larger than hes and she is one of the largest toads I’ve seen.

Toady has been in the corner for weeks now.  She sits patiently waiting for the darkness and the relative cool of the evening.  I see her often sitting under the flood light, bathing in its glow or waiting for a juicy morsel to fly by?

I check on her often…not just when I feed my addiction.  I don’t know why I check.  I guess to reassure myself that all is right in the world.  I have seen her around for years…maybe it was her, all American toads seem to look alike.  Well, she was still there five minutes ago at least.  Looking fat and sassy from a night of eating mosquitoes I hope.

I’ve not named her because I worry Herbert the Rat Snake and his kin are skulking around waiting for a meal.  As I understand it, from the extensive research on toads I tried to reframe from doing.  I probably could name her.   Seems she is not too tasty…does Mr. No Shoulders have taste buds or does Toady just give him gas?  More research to come and maybe I have named her.

For more musings go to https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B018IT38GM?redirectedFromKindleDbs=true

If you are interested in sexy, romantic adventure, Don Miller writing as Lena Christenson can be found at https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B07B6BDD19?redirectedFromKindleDbs=true

EARLY THIRTY

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Too many years of getting up early at early thirty I guess. I am standing in front of my western facing kitchen sink window admiring the full moon as I prepare my morning coffee. It is cold and crisp with not even a whisper of a breeze. “La Luna Llena” seems so close that I might be able to reach up and touch it and I have no clue as to why I think of it in Spanish. The moon light is causing the snow that still lays on the ground to glow brightly and seems to brighten my backyard forest, illuminating it in an eerie light.

I normally don’t have to set an alarm to wake up by five o’clock despite having no place special to be and an icy driveway that would prevent me from going out anyway. This morning my rambling “dream thoughts” awoke me at four thirty along with a puppy dog wanting to go outside. It is mornings like this that I am glad my “dream puppy” awoke me. Most mornings in a time gone by I would get up at four-thirty so I could run or walk before school. This habit has been hard to break. I always knew that if I waited, my labors would not get done and I really didn’t want to feel that elephant sitting on my chest again that I associate with an earlier heart attack. As scary as the outside darkness could be, even with my “miner’s lamp” style flash light, I loved running, probably more so walking, on mornings like this…even with the twenty degree temperatures.

The light cast from the full moon was so bright that most of the time I really didn’t need to use a flashlight. I would climb up the hill on Airline Road and crossover Highway 11 to the drive leading into Lookup Lodge. It was as if the moon was following me, always right over my left shoulder until it disappeared behind the small mountains to the west. Above me, and to the east, Orion still hunted despite the pre-dawn glow of the still unrisen sun. As I chugged, wheezing and gasping, out of what I called the hole and climbed the asphalt path up toward the lake, I always knew that both the moon and Orion would be waiting for me as soon as I topped the next hill and found my way to the eastern side of the lake. I also knew that I would pause, stop timing my run, and admire the scene of the setting full moon over the lake.

It is still too icy for me to get out this morning and with an attack of sciatica trying to hang on, I will resist my urge to do so. I think I am going set my alarm for four-thirty tomorrow, just in case. I think there will be enough light from an almost full moon left to make it worth it. If not, it will still be worth it.