Give Me a Sign

 

Here's one of those billboards I was telling you about:

 

Washing the Undercarriage

 

OMG

Some things should not be shared.

But then what is this crazy mixed up blogosphere good for?

It's not that I might once again prove myself an idiot. I will, always. It's that I might give my power away unnecessarily. Pearls before Swine.

I was out of gas at the same time that the well was dry. I could have used credit but knew that I had enough to get home, while payday was tomorrow. There was a gallon of new gas in the shed, shy one mower's tank. That would get me back to Martinsville, where the prices are cheaper.

But I had forgotten that the homeless kid staying here had already poured that into his tank.

No fear; no need to go begging at the neighbors'. I still had enough to make it to the station on the hill; out of my way and more expensive, but hey...

I'm a stubborn man. I hate back tracking. I figured I'd go through the bottoms and come up the hill to get there.

Some back story: It's been raining; the water is high. A couple days before, on my way home from work I'd seen a minivan come to a stop in the bottom as I was passing. “Don't cross when flooded,” I repeated by rote.

But then I saw an SUV coming the other way, barreling through the water like nothing.

Then, just last evening, on my way home, with the empty tank, I saw a small pickup run straight into the water, kicking up a wake with complete confidence.

I thought, “It's passable; that's the way I'm going in the morning; shortcut to gasoline.”

That turned out to be a bad idea. I mean: I don't have an SUV, nor a pickup truck; just a little Hyundai Accent.

It started out OK, then got deeper. “Where's the road?!” I got into some gravel on the shoulder and floored it to get back onto the pavement. It got deeper yet. “Oh shit, no turning back now!” Seriously, I thought about backing out but if I was having trouble following the roadway forward how was that going to work out? Besides, I was afraid to stop. My headlights were lost in the wave I kicked up before me. If it weren't for that waning gibbous moon high above I'd have been lost (five AM EDT).

Lest you think I'm a complete idiot let it be known that I wasn't afraid of a current. Wylie Road traverses a floodplain backwater surrounded by hills, away from the stream proper. Otherwise I would have tried Mel Currie Road, which actually crosses the Beanblossom. Though looking at Google Earth I see that I was closer to the main channel than I thought!

I climbed out of the water and thought I'd made it, but it was not to be, there was more water ahead. This was the true test of my intelligence. I was afraid that I might not make it back the way I'd come, so I continued on; April Fool that I am.

My hopes were soon dashed as it quickly became as deep as before. I was in the same position again: no turning back! Then it got deeper. My headlights were literally underwater. Then they went out. The dash lights were still on but other than that it was just me, the river, and the moon.

It was probably agricultural detritus but in my heightened state I saw them as floating mats of watercress. I imagined tiny flowers, stand-ins for lotus blossoms. I didn't miss the beauty of my position. I looked out the drivers side window and saw the moon reflected on the water, gut high to me. I slowed quickly once for some reason and the compression wave took off at the same speed I'd been traveling like a mini-tsunami. I only wish I'd looked behind to see what my wake looked like in the moonlight, but I had to navigate. My knuckles must have been white on the steering wheel.

I was resigned to my fate. I seriously didn't think that I would make it. It was 36° Fahrenheit outside and water was seeping in around the doors. I was looking forward to some uncomfortable hours ahead, not to mention what a fool I would feel having done what we all know not to do.

I could see the end ahead, the road rising in the moonlight onto the hill. The water got deeper still.

I've only told this story to two worthy people, with one other listening in. All three of them wanted to know, “Did you Float?”

“No,” I told them. I never felt like I was floating; but come to think of it, near the end I had it floored but was going nowhere fast, nor was the tach anywhere near the red. I just thought it was my engine ready to die.

Nor did I feel my brand new drive tires grab the road at any point, as I emerged from the Red Sea, but there was plenty of power when I asked for it, and the headlights came back on, steam rising from the hood. “Christ,” I thought, “now I just need to make it up the hill to the station before I run out of gas!”

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you Water of the Beanblossom for letting me pass; Thank you Luna for your light; Thank you my Lucky Stars (Goddess)!

I'm overdue for having my transmission flushed, I think I'll do that today.

 

Hollow Log

 

It's starting to look a lot like Easter, everywhere I go... The grass is green, and long, perfect for nestling Easter eggs. Between the redbud, the dogwood and the various “peachy” buds, not to mention the delicate green of newly opened leaves, the hills look like an Easter Egg. He is risen! The Green Man returns; the resurrected god.

It's Little Five Weekend!

I'm not sure what sparked the memory but the other day I recalled the mystery of the forest behind my house, before they cut the trees. Everywhere you looked was harmonious elegance; the cacophony of young growth long orchestrated by the conductor of need. All the sunlight utilized, yet none of the branch tips touching. But it wasn't all brightness and light. There was a dark side, intimated by the evident decay; the rotten, hollow logs.

Whether they were forgotten, abandoned, or discarded there were several child's dolls mouldering into the substrata just behind my house. I put their heads into the gaping woodpecker holes of senior sassafras. I remember one in particular with one eye open, the other permanently closed. This somehow expressed that beautiful immanent darkness; Headhunters' Light.

Those might have been some of the last honest hollow logs in the State of Indiana; long since disintegrated.

 

Truth Will Out

 

Dawn sneaks slowly through the windows
Listening to Joan Baez
singing Zimmerman.
I show my age, but how about that Bernie Sanders?
Who are these Robber Barons anyway,
my relatives?

Mitachie Oywasin (Oy ve).

 

Nostalgia

 

I awoke yesterday, picked up the paper and perused the adverts, looking all the time like a general in the army. If I'd looked in the mirror I'd have given up, but I didn't, I kept on marching. MARCHING, MARCHING, MARCHING into April Fools.

Go Dawgs!!

Diamonds and rust; I'll try to deflate slowly.

Sometimes it was Russia, sometimes it was Poland. I heard Yiddish when I was young, but have forgotten what it all means.