4.2.07

4.2.07

Early morning run in the mist and I come across 4 deer families at different spots on the road, their white tails dancing like popcorn in a vendor’s machine. They look at this bi-ped for a moment before crossing the road and heading to safety. I am again reminded of how far removed from nature, a winter’s potential meal, a hunter’s delight. Eunice does not hear the doorbell as I ring and ring so I find a lader and scale 25 feet up the side of her house to the kitchen window in the hopes of flagging her. Poor dear, she thinks someone is about to break in, but opens the front door, finally to investigate and lets me in. She’s amazed at my energy and I am chagrined by how this houseguest has turned her schedule upside down and flustered her sense of normalcy. Last night we couldn’t’ figure out what had happened to the electric blanket control, quite vital in her cellar cold basement bedroom, so I slept upstairs by the fireplace instead. I had learned that my god-father picked up the cello when stationed in the Philippines during WWII and had heard a fellow troop playing. In his down time, he managed to find an old band instrument and proceeded to teach himself, even when strings broke and he was down to two. Later he ends up finding an instrument in a dumpster in Germany, which ultimately is priced quite well and now belongs to a concert performer he befriended back stateside. I love these stories.