In less than 12 hours, we will be back at work, miles from Possum Cough, surrounded by strangers. Postmodern life likes us not.
Halloween and last night, we watched a cauldron full of old horror movies. Most of them were very enjoyable; some Vincent Price masterpieces, some Hammer classics with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, etc. But one (of which we were only able to bear about 15 minutes) was called 2000 Maniacs. It was the charming story of a town full of Confederate ghosts who lure some silly Yankees (redundant?) to their doom. It had the high production values and acting caliber of, say, the average megachurch dramatic skit. Stay far from it.
Most of you probably know by now that we are landlords to a horse and a donkey. Our near neighbor Ernie's son Gabriel asked if he could overwinter the pair in our pasture and woodlot, since the pasture where they summered is pretty much played out, grass-wise. I said, "Sure, glad to have them." Ernie fixed a barbed wire gate to seal off the two entrances to the south pasture. Unfortunately, he didn't think about the two entrances down by the yard barn in our back yard. Thus, he woke up on Saturday morning and found both critters down the hill in the road. I went out and tried to help him rustle them back towards the pasture, but they weren't cooperating. He finally lured them back with a handful of Honeynut Cheerios, of all things. So once they were in the pasture, Ernie rigged another pair of gates, and all was well.
The horse is Domino, and the donkey is Shorty. This morning before church, they were up on the rock ledge behind the house that we call Five Pines.
We drove to church in separate vehicles, since I had a worship committee meeting after services and MeeMaw didn't care to sit and stagnate while we met. When we got to the bottom of our mountain pass, there were two paragliders swooping around the sky along the highway. On the way through the Carter's Valley area, we saw a little dog run out in the road, wearing a Tennessee sweater. Just as I was laughing about this, a big ol' doe flushed from the field and ran across the road in front of me. MeeMaw and I both gestured wildly to each other. The deer didn't gesture back.
Yesterday, I painted one wall of the dining room. MeeMaw picked the color, a lovely dark blue-green. It looks old-worldy. Possum Cough is beginning to take on the look of OUR home, and this is good and proper.
Just at sunset, I went up into the woodlot and prayed, and then went to see if either Domino or Shorty would come to me. Domino ignored me, munching away on thistles and pokeweed. But Shorty sauntered over to within six feet, his cross emblazoned on his gray shoulders. I'm sure we'll be buds before too long. I shall bring him Cheetos. Or PopTarts. Any donkey who would go for HoneyNut Cheerios will be a sucker for a variety of Frito-Lay products.
I had to vacuum up the ton of ladybugs with which we've been invaded. Took me about 15 minutes with the ShopVac. They were everywhere...in the carpet, on the ceiling, on the walls, in the light fixtures. I started to ask MeeMaw to assist me, but she was harshting on BonBons and mumbled something like "I'm gonna watch me some Days of Our Lives!" The horror. The horror.
Rest well in the November air, beloved family members. And remember to wear black on Tuesday. It is, after all, the appropriate color for mourning.
