I hadn’t been asleep since 4:30 anyway, so I got up early today (by my standards) so I could go to the chiropractor and get cranked on, and then go to my doctor’s office for a blood draw. By the time I got home, I was tired from lack of sleep, so I went back to bed for a while. It was 11 when I got up, and the Mighty Dachshund needed to drain. Afterward, we sat on the porch a while. The past month has been hot and rainy here. It’s been too hot to sit on the porch through the day and too buggy at night, so the poor pooch hasn’t had much time on the “promenade.”
Today, it was only about 80 degrees at the time, so I thought I’d give it a try. The weatherman said there was a good chance of at least one thunder shower today, but the cloudiness helped keep the temperature down, so that was good. The humidity remained high, of course.
There wasn’t a leaf stirring, but it wasn’t bad outside for just sitting. A cold iced tea for me and a cold bowl of water for her might have made it better, though. It was surprisingly quiet for that hour of the day. At first, the only obvious sound was that of the rain crow (flicker), down in the woods, mournfully wailing away about the coming rain. What he/she was doing in the woods, I don’t know, since I usually see them more in the fields. Eventually, the yearly cicadas (as opposed to the 17 year variety, now gone) began singing, and I realized why things had seemed so quiet. They stopped after only about five minutes, though, and the near silence resumed. Even the rain crow had stopped its wailing. Some real crows raised a fuss over on the neighbor’s place for a couple minutes and then settled down.
Gradually, the sounds of man began to creep in. First the sound of a small aircraft could be heard as it climbed into the sky. Five minutes earlier, it would have been taking off from the local airport about five miles away. It hadn’t been gone long when what sounded like a school bus was heard in the distance heading our way. It turned out to be one of the neighbors in his 2-1/2 ton commercial box truck. It has about an 18 foot box, and logos on the side, but it doesn’t mention the kind of business, only the name. Since I’ve never met the guy, I have no idea what he does. At least we wave when we pass. I never dreamed that the day would come out here in the country when I wouldn’t know a guy who lives less than a quarter mile away. Anymore, they come and go like city folks—here for a year or two and then gone.
Another small plane could soon be heard, that one coming close enough that I could see it through the treetops as it climbed through the hazy air. A few minutes later, I was concentrating on the pattern of the moss on the white oak beside which our first dachshund is buried. While noting the crude heart shape of the mossy patch, an older car rumbled by on the road, but I didn’t look up until it was mostly hidden by brush. I got the impression that it might have been one of the old muscle cars. Five minutes later, I heard it coming back, so I made a point of watching for it. It turned not to be a muscle car, but a Chevy Impala two-door from the late 60’s. It’s shiny grey metal flake paint and the sound of what must have been a souped-up engine, made me think that it was probably the driver’s pride and joy. He wasn’t moving fast, but I got the distinct impression that he could if he wanted to!
After a little more comparative silence, my wife came to the door to see if we were still among the living, so I knew she was bored and lonesome. With that, the mighty Dachshund and I returned to our air-conditioned “cave’ to watch the TV with the missus. I’d have preferred to have stayed outside a bit longer, and so would the pooch, but you know how it is when duty calls, especially if there might be ice cream involved eventually. © 2016