Hail Saturday

Not sure what happened to yesterday.

Started out normally enough. Mittens a/k/a mike the feral cat came by from wherever he was hanging all night right after I put out the cat food. Smokey (the cat) had already slid out of the high grass like the baseball spectres out of the cornfield in Field of Dreams and was well tucked into her delicious breakfast.

I went on my daily rounds and then went food shopping.

Had to wait on doing the in barn mule related chores because Honey and Claire have taken to sleeping in (or at least remaining in) under the fans in the cooler barn until mid-morning, which is fine. I just go around doing the other non-mule chores including stringing the pool cover properly and adding the winch that came with the package. Made all of the difference in the world for tightening purposes. Unfortunately, I left putting on the retrofitted cover until too late. But I digress.

Finally did my mule related chores in what became very hot weather, while Claire and Honey went up front to graze in the shady areas.

Then there seemed I lost a chunk of my life fielding phone calls from family members that required my attention. I have to confess, and I know this sounds terrible, but I’ve gotten to the point that I don’t even like to talk on the phone for more than a few seconds, even with family. I think JD Salinger might have been onto something.

https://www.vermontpublic.org/vpr-news/2014-08-25/inside-j-d-salingers-former-new-hampshire-home

Then the weather changed in a heartbeat and the next thing I knew Casa Claire was being pelted by pellet sized hail that really rattled off the skylights, the decks and our windows.

Now, I normally don’t go out into hail storms because as a result of Darwinistic natural selection I understand intuitively that thousands of ice balls the size of peas hurtling from the sky has to hurt.

But yesterday, while Lisa and I were watching this event from the front window, wondering silently yet simultaneously, whether this weather was a precursor to something more sinister, Lisa spotted that two of the grans pools three rubber floatie donuts had escaped the pool and were bouncing tumbleweed style across the front of the property like two Gitmo detainees that had found their cells unlocked. My mystical meditative breath had obviously instilled a sentient life force and consciousness into the rubber donuts, who decided it was time to expand their knowledge and head East of Eden.

I wasn’t about to have to hyperventilate again blowing up two replacements, so I threw open the front door, ran out the driveway and around the front to head them off at the pass so I could catch them before they helped each other over the final front fence and away down the road to floatie freedom. Or die trying. It wasn’t my finest moment.

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/15ytmTyqGE/

But damn, didn’t those ice-ice BBs hurt like hell. Relentlessly cold and wet bird shot that stung like a motherfucker. And when I couldn’t get a good grip on the slippery rubber escapees through the fence, I scaled it and rounded up the creatures on the inside, just as their third amigo saw that I was distracted locking hold of the first two, leapt from the wind swept pool and made its own run for it in a different direction. So there I am cursing the heavens being hell-belted with hail while I raced across the property with two colorful donuts that did their best to catch the relentless wind so they could fly from my hands to freedom.

But I can be relentless too.

A minute later I kicked open the side door and carried the three dripping donuts through the house leaving a hail slime trail behind me. I tossed the throttled three ring circus into the first floor tub., shouted “stay there” (yeah, I really did) and forcefully slammed the bathroom door – the entry to their new and more secure cell – shut behind me.

Lisa then tossed a couple of yesterday’s pool towels still waiting a wash cycle to me and pointed to the trail I had left, so I became a human Swiffer as I reversed my course and wiped up the surprisingly rich hail residue that had followed me across the first floor. It was like cleaning up after a large snail. Then I changed out of my soaking wet clothes and retreated to my recliner, still moist and yet very satisfied.

Within minutes the hail had passed without any real attempt to level the house and then the sun returned to remove any traces of the challenging event.

I then went out front and placed the pool cover into locked position and winched it tightly shut as a warning – to the beachball that remained behind on the water’s surface – that no one escapes Casa Claire.

Then, dusk upon us, I went out back and executed dinner service at Claire’s Wee Laire while the ladies patiently grazed earthy hors d’oeuvres while awaiting their sitting.

I binged a few episodes of a BBC series and then called it a night.

Well, here we are at our Sunday, a day of rest, but not for the wicked.

I have troughs to clean and wood shavings to replace, so I better get a move on.

I hope you five, fine readers are using today to recover from our country’s birthday celebration.

And no matter what else we may get up to, let us make today a great one.