Saturday, Sept 12, 2015
Let me clarify that.
It is pouring.
I picked a fine time to sit on the porch.
And a fine time to leave me Lucille.
What is it about rain that makes me tired?
I have an irresistible urge to head on into bed
To listen to the rain on the roof
To take an afternoon snooze
And that is what I did.
Sunday, Sept 13:
24 hours later.
Decided to head out to the porch.
I forgot it had rained.
I sat down with a brewskie
Wet hind end.
Oh well, who will notice?
What’s that in the yard?
A squirrel carrying a huge walnut, running like a son of a gun.
He almost tripped on a gopher who popped out of his hole, just as the nut carrying squirrel ran by.
The chicken hawk is back.
I think he is looking for a chicken to scoop up.
Sorry, C hawk, only cats and squirrels and gophers around here.
Wait, he might be looking for a chicken butt.
And here I am hanging out on the porch in plain view of the hawk, with a can of beer and a wet hind end.
I hear crying.
It’s the cat.
He wants out.
No way. Not now.
You look too much like a rooster, and the chicken hawk is waiting to pluck you.
Nature is brutal out here in the boonies.
Oh oh. Rain drops, falling on my head.
And in my beer.
I hate a watered down beer.
I decide to suck it up and pretend I am a New Yorker, ok Brooklynite: Not for nothing, but I will not let a little rain ruin my parade.
I parade back into the house and get a bottle of wine.
The rain drops are having a hell of a time trying to invade my bottle.
I should mention it is because I am not having a glass of wine.
I am drinking out of the bottle.
Did you know that a glass has a much larger hole than a bottle?
All right, let’s not go there.
The squirrel is back.
Carrying a nut larger than a loaf of bread.
It’s a sign, I guess, that we will have an early winter.
The squirrel knows all.
He has a subliminal message:
I am squirrel, hear me roar:
Fatten up, folks.
Eat, drink and be merry.
And always wear your steel toed shoes when you are carrying a nut through the yard.
Just in case a gopher or something else pops his weasel.