Ten Minute Snapshot of My Life

Ten minute snapshot of my life... In snapshots.

How things work in my life: I went out to pick up some bamboo tips from where I'd tossed them last year because I finally figured out a use for them. Saw a wee snail in a patch of fantastic light, thought it would make a neat picture. Went for the camera, snail was cruising and had nearly managed to get out of sight by the time I made it back outside so I picked up the piece of bamboo it was on, scaring the snail. Snapped photo anyway:

While waiting for snail to re-emerge, out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement under the tree a couple feet away and looked more closely to discover it was a spreadwing damselfly... First for the yard, woohoo! Bad lighting but I took a documentary photo anyway:

The snail being stubborn, I was then sidetracked by the way the light was hitting the milkweed blossoms farther past the tree. (You can actually see the pink blur in the background of the above photo.) I walked around for better angle on damselfly and for photos of the milkweed. Scared the damselfly, took flower photos:

(Oh, snap! Much better than they appeared through the viewfinder, what with all the sweat running into my eyes. Did I mention it was broiling outside and only ten o'clock in the morning--?) Looked up from the flowers in time to notice the damselfly settling back down. Took poor photo but perfectly adequate for an ID: Slender Spreadwing. You can even see the diagnostic pale veins on the end of its wings.

Spooked damsel again. (Must learn not to wear white when creeping around my yard chasing small insects...) Went back to look for snail: Gone. Those things can really boogie when they want to.

New damselfly for the yard list and a flower photo I'm tickled over: Well worth the mosquito bites. And I now have an idea for creating a leaf litter tray for future snail photo sessions... :) And the reason I went for the bamboo sticks in the first place?

Typical way the "stream of consciousness" path of my life tends to go. Eh, I'll take it.

Talk About Timing...

I bought a battery-powered LED lantern the other day. And had batteries of the right size that were charged, so I put them in it. Ooh, nice; that was worth the money. I had, however, neglected to do any grocery shopping, and the fridge and freezer were echo-ingly empty.

Who knew that I'd have cause to use the lamp twelve hours later and cheer an empty breadbox?!

This is the road at the end of my driveway, 2:45am. That's the witching hour out here, 2 to 3 am...

I had rolled over in bed a bit after 2am, awake enough to know I was awake--or maybe the box fan shutting off woke me. In the years I've lived here, the power company has done an increasingly brilliant job at keeping the electricity flowing. There's pretty much only one reason the power goes out around here these days, and that's when a utility pole comes down.

Yeah, that'll do it...

Freaking unbelievably, all three people walked away from this with hardly a scratch. I'm willing to bet they had on their seat belts.

The nice fat cable wrapped around what's left of the front end of the car (a Lincoln, I was told) might quite possibly be the cable that belongs to the cell tower located on the property adjacent to the sheared off pole. Or it was one of the local phone company's brand new fiber optic replacement cables... (Guess we're lucky anybody was able to call for help. Although one emergency person and a neighbor did each have a carrier that apparently doesn't have a relay on the tower.)

I've been living fifteen years now on the worst stretch of highway in the county. Too many curves on an undivided "rural" two lane for the (scarily large) size of the "traffic and driving rules? what rules?" contingent. The former property owner's mother, who lived in the house on the edge of the road (whereas I live way in the back) was killed merely trying to pull out of her driveway. I knew that going into it the purchase, but I felt the land and house were worth it. I still do, despite the one fatality on this bit of blacktop that I know of in that time (not counting last year's deer).

I only went out to look at this one because I didn't hear sirens within a few minutes. There's a handful of us that live out here and the fire house is a half mile down the road, so usually we get sirens soon after a skidding and/or crashing noise and lights popping off.

Our 45 mph speed limit doesn't command the respect it should (some more enforcement would be nice), but adding a double yellow line through the entire residential/multiple blind curves stretch has helped despite the cereal-box (or Cracker Jack box, if you're old enough to remember those! not that you get free cheap plastic toys in either these days) -licensed driver here or there who ignores it (some more enforcement would be nice). What mostly does it in for the utility poles (and the occasional driver whose time on this earth is up) are people falling asleep at the wheel, as reportedly happened in this case.

(*pphff* We only rated one firetruck…?!)

Many thanks to all the emergency personnel: police, fire and rescue, and kudos to one of the line owners who had a truck on scene within the hour.

The view the next morning:

Uh-oh. Luckily, I was going left.

Admiring the carnage. (Click to big-ify; you'll notice that pole isn't actually touching the ground...) I asked the cell-tower serviceman who was sitting in his van at the end of my drive as I left if any/all of these companies had a wall back at the office that had photos of the most impressive pole smash-ups. He replied, "Sadly, we do."

This photo begs the question: How many electricians does it take to change a lightbulb? It's hard to see, but I counted eleven (11) trucks, not including the traffic and my own pick-up on the far right. But take note: My streetlight is ON. Nearly twelve hours to get the power back, and the road was closed for quite a good bit of that time. Accidents along this stretch take out a three mile section that necessitates at least a five mile detour for folks. I have mentioned this state road is one of only three north-south highways in the county...?

I think I might be okay to stock up on frozen dinners now. But with all my luck I bet the sale is over.

NOTE: It wasn't actually as bright at 3am as these photos appear (it being well before even a summer day's dawn and the power being off) and I wasn't using a flash, just a long exposure time with the DSLR set on no-flash automatic. And a tripod. (I may not have been completely coherent myself at 2am, but I did finally convince myself that yes, I really needed the tripod if I was serious about taking photos.)

THIS IS LIFE: DEAL WITH IT.

These photos may be somewhat disturbing for some and are certainly not at all what I set out or expected to photograph on this particular evening, but they suited my mood rather well at the time I took them so here they are. Feel free to pass over them and my musings.

One thing Autumn Weekend brought out--aside from some wonderful bird-watcher types and even more incredible birds--was perhaps the illumination of one basic foundation block of why I'm a hermit. Not exactly what I was expecting to take away from the experience. Rather like these photos!


(There must be a story here…)

The folk I caught up with over the event, most of whom I was meeting in person for the first time, were forewarned that a weekend spent in their company would be more socializing than I'd done in at least the last five (and more) years put together. They were then floored to find out how friendly I actually am… Ahem. One can get along perfectly well with people--remarkably well, even--but choose not to.

(They kept asking me where the bars were! *lol* See previous post on grape-picking: I don't drink. The only bars I have ever frequented have had live traditional Irish music to compensate for the rest of the nonsense.)


(At least you died so that another might have a shot at living…)

Turns out, I had a fantastic time socializing. Bars without Irish tenors are even bearable if you're the group having all of the fun. I still maintain, however, that bars are absolutely not the location for one-on-one, beginning-of-a-great-friendship conversation. And that's really the whole point of getting out with other people, for me: the heart of the matter, not the fluff.

I may be a hermit, but when out among people it is useful that my tendency to be a loner is nicely balanced by a relatively large dose of public entertainer. Hey, if I have to deal with you, I might as well be amusing. I excel at small talk. (I can do fluff with the best of them.) On the other hand, when I'm interested enough to bother, I'm frighteningly good at real conversation. (I can get to the heart of a matter even before you realize we're there.)


(One feather. Two feathers. Three… Hmmm. Follow the trail.)

I also happen to be tall (which makes it hard to hide behind anyone), reasonably attractive (I'm told; some days I see it, most days--eh), a flirt (totally in fun), and a bit touchy--as in, humans have this ridiculous notion about personal space and not invading each other's, which I tend to completely ignore. (This lack of touch among human adults may actually explain quite a bit about what is wrong with the world…)


(Not a set-up shot. The wind blew the feather around to meet the pellet. It's quite likely not from the same meal... Same diner, perhaps.)

All of this makes me, apparently, a bit too charming. And being a bit too charming and having to deal with repercussions of being a bit too charming has to be one of the most ridiculous things to worry about when out with other people. What's the point of finally getting out if I can't be myself while I'm there? It's not like I intentionally plan to wreak havoc. And why the hell should I be less than who I am just to make everyone else comfortable? If they can't deal with me, that's their problem, not mine. And if it is going to be an issue I might as well have just not made the effort in the first place. Hence, I'm a hermit!


(Ouch. That had to have hurt coming up; those are bones--big bones--in there...)

It works in reverse, too. I'm a soul-deep loner, so you all really ought not to take me too seriously.

I am happy to report that these revelations struck me after the weekend was over, so I was able to enjoy all of the rest of it. Enough to consider doing something similar again.

Eek, did I just say that---? ::frantically burying head back in sand::

YESTERDAY

Yesterday, I stood in the rain until I was soaked to the skin.

Purposefully went out into it and stayed out the entire length of the summer shower, actually. (It couldn't quite be called a thunderstorm, although there was some quiet rumbling off to the east.) And it felt wonderful! Hadn't done that in way too long a time, although I have been meaning to for at least three rainstorms now. I love summer rainstorms.

It would have been simply stood in the rain in my skin but I'm a bit nervous about running nekked around my yard these days. (Have I mentioned how much I love living in the sticks?) Even though the old man who lived next door and used to wander back to check on me if he hadn't seen me in awhile has passed on (that one time I had on a very long t-shirt and socks, not that the socks covered anything important) and I'm enough of a hermit that acquaintances haven't dropped by unannounced to introduce me to their sisters in many years (luckily, I had the towel upon which I had been sunbathing), and the family with adolescents who had the house built practically in my front yard a few years back packed up their stuff lock, stock and barrel a couple of weeks ago and disappeared (which reminds me, I need to find out who holds the lien on the place and for how much). But there are still the guys in the house at the far end of my drive; I didn't want to risk that they'd decide to come talk about the now-empty-but-for-the-house acreage between us on the one day I was out appreciating nature, um, naturally…

Too much info? Ah, well, whatever. This is who I am, baring (ahem) a bit of my soul. One reason I was able to get along with Huston for a time was because I don't exactly march to the same beat as most of the rest of the world, either; I'm just not so inclined to advertise it as often and as obviously as he… Indeed, he once told me that my backing up and stopping to take off my shoes in order to squish my toes in a mud puddle I had just stepped around was the clincher to him asking me out.

Yesterday, while wonderful and not regretted, would have been absolutely perfect if not for an overabundance of garments and lack of a good mud puddle.

RETRACTION and UPDATES

"Are you mad at Houston?" asked my mother this morning. "No," I laughingly replied. "Exasperated, suffered a momentary tiff, but not mad." Houston can't help but be who he is; it's probably the main reason his biography was written in the first place. Most of my favorite people march to a different drummer; Houston dances to some other kind of music altogether. It's his most endearing and his most maddening trait. He'd be the first to be thrilled that I look as good as I do at forty-mumble-mumble and that I'm happy about it, that I can poke fun at myself. (I think I'll do a whole exhibit of those freaky photos!) He'd also be the first to be mortally offended that I was taking shots at him at all, let alone in a public forum such as this. Ah, well, there were many reasons why I'm not living a very different life today than I might have once upon a time…

In the interest of rambling on about something more weighty on these pages, I simply wanted to point out that I am as susceptible as anyone else to all those odd, mean little human foibles lurking in the darker side of our personalities. And pride certainly does come before a fall... Momentary tiff at old boyfriend brought low by a camera that doesn't lie. Laugh with me, folks; it was funny.

I also find it funny to now have the ability to compare the snapshots of myself as taken from the three books in which I have made cameo appearances. (Self as seen by ex-boyfriend, close friend, then-new acquaintance now-old friend; meat for another post, indeed.) Alas, my natural laziness and lack of ambition! Showing up in the books but never writing one myself. *tsk tsk tsk* Surely this blog counts for something? *lol* As I pointed out on an author's blog forum; what a pity blogs don't even buy chocolate. (For those of us who refuse to advertise, anyway.)

Update #1: I found the photo of the real live and living-in-Cape-May river otter! I will tuck it into this post after I ask the photographer if I may snatch it. I'll also link to his blog; not only is he a gifted naturalist and talented photographer, but he's a Brit now living in Lincoln's Land (really bad attempt at a reverse "Yankee in King Arthur's Court") and so has a unique perspective on all forms of life here.


Update #2: The hen turkey was back! Again I spooked her when I didn't realize she and her brood were just outside the window. But I snagged a photo of one of her young'uns; look fast, those little things can move! They are about dove-sized right now and quite beautiful; the delicate patterning over their backs doesn't show at all on this blur of motion. Mostly I only see the grass tops waving as they go by and perhaps a brown shadow slipping through the stems. I don't even have an accurate count, although five paused briefly in the open as they rounded the corner of the house. I still have to check to see what the quality of the video is that I managed of Momma T-bird walking and eating. Presumably she was eating the ripening grass seeds, but perhaps also or else insects—incidentally or on purpose or maybe even both. "They" say that guinea fowl eat ticks. On purpose? I have to wonder. I know for a fact that the ticks certainly do hang out on those seed heads, just waiting for their meal (me, the rabbits or the deer, they aren't picky) to walk by.

::much itching from a wait-until-they-bite method of tick checks:: Lousy approach, but very effective because I'm quite allergic to tick bites and usually react pretty quickly; of course, by then it's too late. *sigh* One more welt (well, about a half a dozen more from that ill-considered rush through the yard last night in an attempt to track down the burning-wood odor drifting in the window) that will now itch all summer with every successive bite. Especially bad method of finding the bloodsuckers now that "they" say you can get tick-borne diseases faster than only from a tick attached for at least 24 hours. (Doh! Well, yeah… Soon as they bite, they're through your outer defenses.) Oo-oo-oo... Time to re-stock the meat tenderizer. (Seriously, when moistened with water [or anti-histamine cream in my case] it works a treat on itchy bug bites! Feels great, too.) ::scritch scritch scritch::

[Update #3: You may notice some subtle changes to the look of the blog this week. From a suggestion on the Cape May Brit's blog about justifying text, I have begun to delve back into HTML code; haven't done much of that since I created my first (now long-defunct) webpage entirely from scratch about ten years ago. I actually love the work; it's like a mental puzzle. So I'm delving around and making little changes here and there as I am able. Those annoying dotted lines all around the posts? Sorted! Hah. I'll try not to disappear anything important.]

IT'S ALL ABOUT ME...

Of course it is; it's my blog, after all. *lol*

Eight years after an ex mentioned me in his biography (long story; too much info and the world will be able to find me! If you are a really good Googler, there's probably enough here already on this blog for you to figure out who I am in real life. I prefer to keep the mystery going awhile longer yet if at all possible), I was searching out a mutual acquaintance with whom I had, regrettably, lost touch (gotta love Google!) and I finally decided to look up the reference today. (Did you all know that if you have an Amazon account you can search through books they have in their inventory?) No, I have never actually read the book. I had had a rather intimate relationship with the man, for crying out loud; a book really wasn't going to tell me anymore than I already knew about him, and if it could, I'd just as rather not know it, thank you very much.

The little sh*t mentioned me by name! Ahem. But yes, as I had been told by said mutual acquaintance, it was (for the most part) a rather complimentary mention. Still… Well over fifteen years have passed and although I've tried to keep that part of my life in a musty, dusty box in the back of the deepest, darkest closet I own, and although I did get out of the relationship early enough to maintain to this day an exasperated affection for the man (rather than the deepest, vilest hate others took away with them), there's still that little human quirk of nature that just wants to say "Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah. *phhbbbttt* " So of course, since I was looking rather good today for 40-something (50-ish is soooo not treating him well; for goodness sake, Houston, at least trim the beard!), I had to snap off some shots to send him for his trophy book. (Oh, yeah, he has one. As I said, EX.)

*sigh*… And so does human hubris bring about our downfall. When will I learn? Natural light is a No-No. Photobooth Effects are my Friends… So I give you this afternoon's much-edited photo session:





Aw, c'mon… "Serious"? Who the heck did he confuse me with?! Serious? Puh-lease; that last one is my favorite.