But Wait, There’s More

I’m listening to Harry Shearer’s Le Show, which is a favorite here in the yurt.  Funny, depressing.  Depressing, FUNNY.  Witty, trenchant, sad, true.  You can, I believe, hear it online as well as on public radio and it is well worth investigating.

So, time for funny I think, don’t you, Gentle Reader?  The man we buy our wood from is a veritable treasure trove of stories.  Once, one winter a while ago, he was driving his big diesel truck into town from Out Here, and had to ford a small stream, called an overflow.  It was a raging torrent, as they all are around here in winter, from recent rain.  (In the summer they’re all dry gullies.)  In the middle of this several foot deep flow was a small Toyota sedan, with two women in it.  Apparently they had gone into town for beer, tried to cross the stream on the way back, failed, and proceeded to drink beer while their car began to float, and then began to tilt.  This was where they were when our friend rumbled up: Blitzed out of their minds, and about to capsize.  He pulled them out at great personal danger, having to hook a chain to their bumper and almost being swept off his truck in the attempt.  Once out of raging waters, even more swacked since they continued imbibing while the rescue proceeded, they of course found their car wouldn’t run, and merrily ordered him to tow them home- it’s just right over there!- which he did.  This was when they informed him this wasn’t the first time this had happened.  Head scratcher central around here, yes it is.

Meanwhile, the geese have been flying south for several weeks and it has been amazing to watch their elegant V’s flying so high up, emerging from the clouds and moving across the sky, with faint honking coming down to us on the ground.  Winter is definitely almost firmly here, and last night the mountains still had a scrap of snow on them from last week’s storm.  In the sunset, the mountains were a deep indigo, the sky the color of the heart of a peach.  The outline of the mountains was vibrating, from yellow to blue, and it lasted for a few minutes then disappeared completely, almost as quickly as it had begun.

The dusk finished with a robust chicken chase; I had to shut our landlady’s chickens into their coop for the evening, and one decided she wanted to spend her Saturday night Out.  I was able to satisfactorily demonstrate to myself that I am slightly more intelligent than a chicken, in the end, and finishing up with a nose to nose chat with one of the horses on the way back to the yurt it seemed for a moment that even though things are moving faster and faster, curiouser and curiouser, there may still be room for cautious optimism.


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