Clouds Finally Let Loose

 

We’d been just short of begging the landscaper we use to come and mow the lawn.  He came Friday, drove around in one place then another for fifteen minutes and suggested the big contraption he was using was sinking into the lawn.  He’d have to come back Monday, as long as it didn’t rain this weekend.  I’m staring out at a rainy Sunday.  They ain’t coming tomorrow.  It will probably rain again on the next day that seems viable.  Such is life on a hill side. 

 

I biked around just now, right before the precipitation fell.  There was a big thunderclap, just as I headed out which didn’t bode well for a dry ride.  Clouds were pushing out the sun, swelling up and out, grey and black.  And it drizzled and the clouds rumbled but there was no downpour.  I turned back at the place where a always do, expecting to be dumped upon at any moment.  Returning I paused before the bridge over Boppy’s Lane, tempting the heavens to open up upon me, as I wanted to identify a beautiful purple wildflower that was opening up here and all along the trail; “Dames Rocket.”  It wasn’t till I was back home, spraying my trousers with napalm to kill the ticks that the clouds finally let loose and the rain fell in sheets. 

I made some muffins this corn morning.  I’ve done this on a number of recent Sunday’s.  I got started with those “Jiffy” packs that get you most of the way there, but today I made them from scratch, with cornmeal flower.  I chopped up some pistachios and tossed them in and unlike last week when half of them stuck to the pan, they came out looking good today.  My purpose, beyond feeding the family was to have something to bring up to the neighbors up above us. 

 

George and Cami are a lovely couple, who live right up above us.  He’s ninety, she’s turning eighty-five.  George was having his hair cut, when I arrived.  They had me in and we chatted about the neighborhood.  One of our neighbors on the other side has apparently passed away.  I’d never met the gentleman, Phil, though I’d brought his wife Peggy muffins, not long ago.  The neighbors between them apparently also have cancer.  The house on the other side has been demolished.  They aren’t sure what will be rebuilt.  And the house I like, down on the trail that looks rather distinguished, had apparently once been the accommodation of a visiting sovereign, though George and Tammy couldn’t decide if it was the kind of England or the King of Norway.  I suppose I wanted them to know I was there for them, in case they needed something.  I suppose I'm modeling neighborliness for the future neighbors we might have and need in thirty-years time. 

 

 

 

Sunday, 05/16/21