The dogs have been out, my eyes are open, I've had my cappuccino, and the hurricane has hit N'awlins. Don't you wonder sometimes as to why - no, REALLY - why do those news correspondents stand in the hurricane-driven wind, rain and debris, nearly bent in half sideways, as they give their remote news report: "Yes, John, it is rainy and windy here." Bit of an understatement, don't you think, not to mention how BLOODY SILLY THEY LOOK! I'm going out to the garden yard, harrumph.
Richard is out in the back yard, using his air compressor to blow all last years dust and dirt out of my space heater. Yes it's that chilly at night. Wednesday he is going to clean the chimney so that we can start using the wood stove if we need it, sigh. That's two months earlier than we usually have to light fires in the stove. Ah well, one thing about a wood stove, if the power goes out, we always have heat.
He comes into the garden yard, picking up windfall apples and helping me with the beach mats. It is nice in the sunshine. We talk about this and that as we work, and notice that one of the Mortgage Lifter tomatoes appears to be turning faint tones of yellow. One can only hope. I still can't make up my mind if I really like the two battered wicker chairs we placed under the weeping rose bush near the garden boat or not. I move about, viewing them from all angles. Can't decide. Time to go in and vacuum the kitchen.
Remember I mentioned fore-shadowing? Here comes the BAM!
I notice that all the dogs have disappeared and think, peripherally, that it is odd. Mental shrug and back inside I go. The dogs are suddenly avoiding me like the plague...or like I - uh oh, um, smell...bad. Oh dear. I didn't, did I, I did @#$%^&* stepped in a doggy mine, right smack, square, on top of one and it blew up allllll over the bottom of my shoe.
AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH! Richard just looks at me, smugly, saying nothing. Dogs all look innocent, pointing paws at the next guy as to who did it. Shoes go onto the deck, where they sit until I get up the energy to clean them off. GAK.
Richard's off to work and I go and police the yard again, deactivating several new doggy mines. Still don't know where I found mine earlier, grumble, snivel, whine. They are usually easy to spot, sitting as they do on the short grass of the yard. Not a pleasant task, by any means, and dangerous, if one doesn't deactivate correctly. Once, while picking & flicking in the front dog yard, I accidentally flicked one right into a tree branch which promptly flicked it right back at me, bopping me between the eyes before I could even blink. Fortunately for me, it was small and dried up, not a freshly planted mine.
I finally screw up my courage and deactivate the mine on my shoe. I tried wearing a new pair of running shoes I bought recently, thinking to just throw the others in the garbage - they are rather tattered looking - but the new ones change my center of gravity and I keep trying to tip over backwards every few steps. Not good, walking around like a drunken sailor on shore leave. Back to the newly cleaned old ones.
It's early evening, the dogs are fed and I'm planning what to do tomorrow. Still haven't had my grilled burgers, onions and potato patties so that is on my list for dinner, no matter if Richard wants them or not. The dogs are snoozing on the sofa in front of the patio door, their favorite spot when suddenly Mason jumps up and starts barking ferociously. We look out the patio door and I see through the trees that it is the Cute Little Island Doe Mule Deer.
I open the patio door and 6 dogs all run out hooting and barking down the fence. She looks at them, rolls her eyes at their idiocy and keeps grazing, moving slowly towards the Bartlett Pear tree and the driveway beside the garden yard. I grab my camera. It is nearly dusk, but maybe, just maybe I can catch her, and her twins, who are never far from her side.
And I do. I get within 20 feet of them, and could probably have gotten closer. She knows I am no threat, watching me curiously, but with no fear. I marvel at her beauty and the simplicity of mother and fawns. I go and roll down the beach mats on the garden boat, and she is on the other side of the fence, eating the windfall apples, enjoying her treat. The dogs are still hooting and barking out in the front dog yard, but here all is peaceful, serene, and I have my center of gravity back.
Time to go in and quiet the dogs. Tomorrow is another day.