Tuesday, August 28--
5:25 p.m.-
Classes started today, thus it's the first day of fall. Instructor
released us at 2:15, with the assignment to read pages 1 through 15. Sociology
textbook is right at my feet, inviting me to play inside it soon. My other
class is required by all. Speech it is, that too will be a ball.
I had intended not to come to the office today, other things to do,
but they really require a rainy cold day. Bed sheets and doorknobs, and the
kitchen floor too, and vacuuming and dish washing will wait 'till tomorrow.
(Unless EZ gets industrious at night).
I found an inviting overgrown trail, across through the blueberry patch,
leading northeast. We explored it, seeking winter access to my summer office.
I walked. EZ ran, through bushes and fern stands, losing herself from sight.
Suddenly I heard her rampaging hard gallop approaching from behind, so I stopped
in my tracks to permit her wide passage.
"OOF! -SNAP," right beside me was the breath being blasted
out of her, and the sound of a dead tree trunk, or maybe a ribcage cracking.
She came to a stop just ahead and held up a rear leg, then sank to the ground
with a shocked and bewildered sort of look, like motion picture gunshot victims
display. Beside me was a pointed beaver-gnawed trunk, two inches thick and
twelve inches tall, topped with a skinned clump of fur. I knelt down, sure
of broken bones or busted thigh or cranberry blood gushing. Or leastwise a
show of some serious ooze. She eased onto her side, looked up at me embarrassed
and whimpered, "I'll be all right. Save yourself. Just leave me here
to die."
I gave her a bullet to bite. She held it between front teeth while
I examined her bones and belly, but heard not a peep. She's been known to
go great lengths for affection and petting, and does it quite well, but this
time I believe she--no kidding--hurt like hell, and I was as scared as she
of damage.
I found no ruptures or fur-less bald patches, so I stood up and moved
back, to watch her reaction. I quietly said her favorite word, "okay."
She ejected from the ground and was, all in one move, instantly running
hell-bent away to a fun scent, paws barely touching the ground.
We found a gravel road after a mile and established how to get here
by car, then hurriedly lurked in the woods as a pickup truck boiled past.
Subtle but unmistakable changes are sneaking into the land as we approach
August's end. The sun's light is more vivid, not softened through humidity's
haze. Growing things have quit flourishing and are draining their green, tinting
themselves fulvous. Keening insects shrill, crickets squeak, dragonflies and
mosquitoes are gone. The air no longer smells green, rather the dry chaffy
dust of harvest. If dumped out here and awakened from a twenty-year sleep
I'd say "summer," because it somewhat still is.
6:10 p.m.-
Three weeks ago I was pulling up anchor and moving to stay in the shade.
Today I'm doing the same moving, trying to stay warm in the sun.