Thursday, February 19, 2015

Black and White

There must be some law of physics, or perhaps it's the dreaded Murphy's doing, dictating that a tissue will only be missed and left in a pocket to be thrown into the washing machine when it's a load of dark clothes; i.e., black or grey winter, long-sleeve, turtleneck tee-shirts.  It never happens with bright summer tank tops or white sheets.  Laundry on the line yesterday was covered with confetti like leftovers from a Mardi Gras parade; appropriate, I suppose, since it was the day after Fat Tuesday.  I don't understand how a tissue so fragile that it disintegrates in water can become as tough as whang leather when dry and nearly impossible to remove.  Those tiny flecks won't shake off and can't be brushed off.  Each piece had been applied with super glue.  Observers would think I'd developed a passion for black-and-white polka dots.  Fortunately for me, the only visitors yesterday were turkeys.  However, a tribe of thirty or so were hanging around toward sundown just across the drive from the clothesline, some perched on the deck rail and, while I'm not sure, I think they were snickering behind their wings.

We take our amusement where we can up here.  Camille called in the morning to invite me to come watch the entertainment at her place.  A huge pine next to her frontage road had died and was threatening power lines.  PG&E had come to take it down.  I had chores to tend, but from here I could see the brave guy with the chainsaw up at the very tippy top.  We're talking about an 80-90 foot tree.  Cam said that one really big branch had been sawn through and had dropped into her yard and shattered.  Oops.  She and her mom had taken prime seats on her patio to watch the show.  As I said, we're easily amused.

Sunrise and sunset come earlier and later now, another sign that spring is just around the corner.  Regardless of the lovely warm days, the temperature drops with the sun and there must be a very high dew point.  Last evening as I was taking down my tissue-flecked laundry, the shirts were already slightly damp again.  In the morning, the deck looks as if light rain had fallen and my pant legs are soaked by the time I get down to the barn.  At least the plants are getting some moisture.

The warm shirts have been put up on the high shelf for the duration.  Next winter I'll pull them out again and wonder why they're covered with paper flecks.  Oh well.

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