“Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.”
The day is still, one of those damp days which seems to smother movement. It’s warm, not even a sweatshirt day. I heard the rain earlier this morning, but I just nestled and went back to sleep. I swear it got light for a bit, but I think the sun felt overwhelmed by all the clouds and went back inside to mull over its future.
You know I love the rain, but a succession of rainy days tends to get dreary, to make me a bit lethargic. Yesterday we did errands, including Gracie’s favorite spot, the dump, but today only the laundry awaits. Nothing exciting there. Maybe I should add dusting. Nope, that doesn’t do it either. I do have a book, but that seems too easy: lying on the couch and reading. I guess Gracie and I will venture out to see what awaits us in the world today. You never know what you’ll find.
If I were a character in a Stephen King novel, I’d find something during the venture which I, in retrospect, would wish I’d never found. It might be the store with the strange man behind the counter, a man dressed in a black suit and wearing a fedora who might even have an unlit cigar hanging out of the side of his mouth. His store is filled with what looks commonplace, but he’s really offering time or place or a wish he’d grant which I’d come to rue later, too late I might add. Festivals are common on the Cape this time of year. This weekend I can attend a scallop festival, an apple festival or harvest day at Bray Farm. It’s that last one which has the potential of Stephen King about it. A hay ride is always part of the day, and I’m thinking of scarecrows with hellish grins who move when you’re not looking or a trail leading to a place none of us recognize. There are chickens on the farm. I mean, really, what farm doesn’t have chickens. Chickens have beaks, and when a brood of hens join forces and attacks, none of us are safe. Oops, now I’m straying into Alfred Hitchcock territory. It’s the rain. It has my brain astir. My imagination is running amok. Where is my book? Gracie, the couch is mine!
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October 14, 2011 at 4:33 pm
I love to fall asleep to the sound of the rain. I did that last night and couldn’t imagine why Zoey kept waking me by purring and kneading on my arm. I just turn over. She came back three times and at 5AM I got up. She wanted nothing. Just stared at me. Coffee to go! That’s what started my day. You’re so lucky to have all those northern fun fairs to go to. We have one haunted house and I’m too old for it.
October 15, 2011 at 11:33 am
Z&Me,
You would have loved the last few days as it rain on and off all day and night.
Gracie does that but she is on the bed right by my head. I think my breathing must change and she senses I’m awake. I try to pretend I’m not so i can sneak in a few more winks but she gets insistent.
The Cape is loaded with festivals, and I usually try to see a few each year.
October 14, 2011 at 5:57 pm
Hi Kat,
As long as you don’t buy wind-up Chattering Teeth from the strange man in the the black fedora. And if you haven’t read that particular Stephen King short story, I’m not sure I would suggest that you do although it was a good story.
Chickens are evil.
Rocky and I went to the beaver pond today because I thought it might have interesting fog. It had a downpour and we got soaked. But then we went for ice cream in the downpour and that made it all good. Now we can curl up on the couch with a good book and warm blankie.
Enjoy the evening.
October 15, 2011 at 11:38 am
Hi Caryn,
I have read that story and the last thing I’d buy would be chattering teeth from anybody-you never know!
My chicken story is from Bolga. A fellow volunteer came to visit. During training we had all come not to like him so much, but Peace Corps courtesy meant you never turned away another volunteer. It was the hot time of the year so I was sleeping outside in the courtyard of my house. I had my double mattress and a single. I put the single right on the chicken path. My chickens went out every morning and came home every night. They never varied their path. I was awakened that morning by screams as the chickens hopped on him, as he was in their way, on the way out the gate. I pretended astonishment and regret, but I was laughing like heck inside.
Ice cream makes anything better, even a downpour and wet clothes.