The usual autumn storm finally hit us, up
here on the high mesa...at 5800 feet and
five miles from Sandia Peak. It came early
November, as if it had been delayed for a
time up north, somewhere.
You can enjoy your attic at any time--if it
is filled with good books, old John Wayne
and Gene Autry movies (plus the entire
collection of MASH, which we have)---but
attics are best on cold, stormy, snowy days.
What makes storms so great is "Nature's
Imagination." They're all different, every
single one. Some rain, some sleet, some
hail, and some snow. Just about all of 'em
come with high winds---rattling the eaves,
the curtains , the vents, moaning through
windows left ajar...and with us, our trash can
lid blows all over our double-driveway, as if a
lost cymbal, looking for its orchestra!
And a storm wouldn't be a decent storm if
our pesky long mulberry branch didn't whop
against the house, almost in rhythm, in the
wind. (B.E. says: "If you don't trim that big
branch off the tree, it's going to damage the
house." I tell her: "You don't understand, it
complements the storm and and is all a "part
of the plan.")
"Remember Kurt Wallander, the Swedish
detective, and HIS pesky branch that
whopped his rented apartment wall, during
vicious Sweden northers!," I tell her. "Don't
you recall how it made the storms--great?!"
Now this thing started a day or two ago,
with a cool breeze coming up, gently
swaying the trees, the little bushes, the
tomato vines, and the wind chimes were
playing...almost like an intro to the
symphony which was coming...
Then Joe on Channel Seven forecast an
extensive wind warning, lasting 24 hours;
wind would be coming through Tijeras
Canyon at up to 55 mph! Heavy rains were
to be expected.
It's Saturday now, wind still blowing big-time,
and I am up here our attic, a couple of small
cedar logs are popping merrily along in the
little wood stove (which is so efficient, it's
supposed to heat a house.)
This cozy place was cleaned up by me in
September. Then I could hardly wait until cold
weather. I washed and aired some of the quilts,.
I vacked every corner and under the 3/4 GI bed.
I even scarfed that feather thing that BE uses to
dust and tried it on the books and pictures on
the wall, but I think an oily rag would be better...
and more masculine.
Did I tell you that my "larder" up here, usually
full of hunter/fisherman/outdoorsmen---healthful
snacks---has become sorely depleted over last
winter and through the summer.
You see, friends drop by and say "We have read
all your attic stories and we don't have an attic.
Could we just sit a spell up there and read, or
nap an hour on you great bed, with those famous
quilts?"
What can you do? Also guests would rather stay
up there on the 3-4 bed, (with all the books and
movies, and snacks---I have one of those little B&W
TV's with a place in the bottom to insert DVD's)
than in a regular BR downstairs...
I've figured it out! That's where my snacks---
Snapples, Ritz crackers, Jif Crunchy, Vienna
sausages, (ketchup), sardines, tamales, Wolf
Chili, cashews (in the big jars from Costco),
trail mix (covered with melted garlic butter),
popcorn, and black elephant toe bread from
Trader Joes has been going!! They're filling
up on it!
It's those pesky "friends," who "drop in," to
spend time...or the night! It's all coming to a
halt!
Now, my place has been restocked at heavy
expense. Delaware punches are two bucks
each, from Old Mexico. Diet Snapple iced tea
bottles are high now...Rush did such a good
job advertising 'em.
Two cans of SPAM sit prominently in the shelf
for all to see, for if conversation lags, you can
almost always get a rise by asking "How do
you like your SPAM?"
Yes, sitting blissfully here at my garage sale
table, breathing it all in...and pondering...you
don't need big fancy mansions to be happy...
good books, warm quilts, great snacks and
beverages wil do it!
The rain late this Saturday is now pouring
down! And what's that loud roar on the roof?
Wow, it's hailing big time. It's splattering against
the window. I look out and the ground is white!
What a storm! In an attic, things hitting the roof
are twice as loud.
Someone is coming up the stairs. It's BE! She
"loves a good storm" almost as much as Wylie's
mother. "It's hailing, it's hailing," she cried, and
left to watch downstairs.
How nice, I thought. I may just crawl under a quilt
and get that Faulkner book from under the bed---
the one I started last year and never finished---
and just read a spell...and maybe fall asleep.
************
BY MIL
11-06-16
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