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Thanks for the reply… I need to dust off my HTML
Please leave your post up. It will give me a reference.
- This reply was modified 9 months, 1 week ago by Covems.
Another day… another attempt. Kind of forgot how to do this.
Testing
Brattled(V) Bratt-eledThe unsettling feeling, at a stoplight, that the bus load of kids that just pulled up beside you is making fun of you.Example: “Timothy felt quite brattled after the bus load of children pulled up beside his pimped out Prius.”
– Rich Hall – SnigletsWhy… here I am, Miss Stone.
Hugs to you. I am alive and well, living a second cyber life. A little older, a little grayer, but definitely no wiser. Maybe a Budweiser, but that's a tale for a different day. It does give me a warm, fuzzy feeling to see that I haven't been totally forgotten, and I thank you for that.I get a bit nostalgic from time to time (especially when the melancholies set in) as I search for my own Nepenthe. And I will admit that I wander into the Forum anonymously (with a paper bag over my head), and check up on you folk. That's because there is alway a draw to AChat and the many wonderful memories I have of the community, the loves, and the special friends I made there.
A few of those friends I have been able to find in the parallel universe that I roam these days.
I don't know if you recognize or remember Pafe56. She also is alive and well, living that second cyber life on her houseboat, still in her bunny ears I may add, along with her companion, or should I say “partner in crime”, Lady Satoire.
I hope this little post finds you happy and healthy. I do miss the chats we used to have, your humor and insight into things always made me smile and brought a joy to my heart.
So, in answer to your question,
Here I am.My eyes pop open and I look about. I had dozed off a little, and my cup had dropped to the ground. I looked at Miss Lilly and noticed her staring out across the lake. Her ears twitched the way cat's ears do when they are picking up a sound.
I reached down and picked up my cigar, brushed off the dirt and re-lit it. That's when I heard it. A peculiar sound… like a voice on the wind… raising in pitch, then lowering. I was sure there were words, but they were difficult to make out.
Miss Lilly shifted her position on the afghan, sitting up now to listen. It sounded as though the voice was getting closer… then I heard the rhythm of the voice… it was singing.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho”
I know that voice. I know I know that voice, but I can't remember who it is.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho”. It is getting louder. Not as loud as shouting, but loud enough to hear.
Miss Lilly is staring. She has pin pointed the sound, much better than I could do. She shifts again, her right ear turning my way as I move in the chair, taking another puff on the cigar.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, across the lake we go. We like to laugh when we're on our raft. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho.”
I can see them now. Seven small figures in the moonlight, on what looks like a raft of logs lashed together. The singing stops as they float across, heading towards the Bee Hive. Two of the figures are using what appears to be canoe paddles.
The raft pulls up to the shore line, and two of the small figures hop out, moving about as they secure the raft. The rest of the figures disembark one by one. They form a single line as they head up the walk to the Bee Hive.
“I know those folk, Miss Lilly.” I whisper to the cat, who is now licking one of her front paws. I take another puff on the cigar and using the long stick I found, I poke the embers of the fire, which has died down to a low glow. Pushing the ashes and hot coals closer together, a small flame jumps to life. I toss on a couple of small pieces of wood and watch as the small flame catches the dry kindling… the fire begins to grow.
Slowly driving the Dodge through the woods, singing along with Kathy Mattea, while Listen To The Radio plays on (what else?) the radio.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCyyHjx3XYgA sense of melancholy and nostalga wash over me as I begin to recongize trailmarks. The road is overgrown, showing no signs of recent use, but it is still there to be followed. I give the truck a little gas…
As the pickup climbs the last ridge, I spot the cabin and lean forward on the steering wheel to get a better look. At first glance, it appears to be a little weather worn and the grounds are overgrown. I can see one of the second floor shutters has come loose, but other than that, the place is still standing. “Probably gonna need a good scrubbing” I ponder, “inside and out.”
I slowly pull up to the front, put the truck in park and shut the engine down. Stepping on the parking brake as I open the door, I feel a slight pang. A bit of guilt perhaps? With that feeling fading, I step out of the cab, leaving the door open and stretch out some of the kinks from the long drive. “It's not the years Marilyn,” I say out loud, thinking of the line from Indiana Jones, “it's the mileage.”
“Miss Lilly”, I announce, with a sweep of my hand, motioning for her to exit the truck, “we're here.” Miss Lilly gives me a look that says I disturbed her slumber, yawns once, stretches out a long stretch. Then at her leisure, she gets up and steps across the seat, stretches again and hops out onto the ground. I shut the door behind her. She seems nervous with the new surroundings and all, but quickly her tail goes up and the orange cat brushes up against my legs.
Its quiet here, almost too quiet. I can hear every step I take as my boot heels trod the hard turf and there is some crunching underfoot. The water on the lake shore is lapping with a soft sound to it. There are a few ducks sitting motionless about 10 feet off shore, close to the cattails. They pay me no heed.
Moving around the front of the truck with Miss Lilly in close pursuit, I notice the mat is missing from the front door and I suspect there may be other things missing as well. I look around and see that all the shutters are closed, and I remark to myself about having had the good sense to do that when I closed the place up.
With Miss Lilly still close by, I continue my inspection of the exterior, walking around the cabin. “Could use a spot of paint here and there and the chinking needs some attention”, I mumble to the cat, “but not too bad. Nope… not too bad at all.”
Reaching the back door, I try the knob. Its locked and I realize I had left the keys in the glovebox of the truck. Trying to save myself a trip, I feel around on top of the window casing, my fingers touch a little finishing nail. Then… success! The key is still there.
Using the key to unlock the back door, I then slip it into my jeans pocket and turn the knob. I have to give a little extra effort to get the knob to turn, but it does and the door slowly creaks open. Miss Lilly, always wanting to be first, scoots quickly through the doorway. It smells unused inside… that dry, dusty smell. The light from the doorway illuminates the interior and makes the cat's shadow on the floor look long and mishapen.
I turn into the kitchen and open the back windows. Unlatching the shutters, I push them open, letting in more of the natural light. Looking out, I can see that the corral is overgrown, and it looks as if the stable has sustained some damage. Raising the storm windows, I pull the screens up from their bottom rollers and listen for the latches to click into place. As I am setting the windows open and screens up on the side of the kitchen I look in the direction of The Bee Hive, spotting the very top of the chimney over the trees… all seems quiet over there as well. Miss Lilly nudges my hand while joining me to look out the window.
“This window,” I say to her, “will be a nice spot for an orange cat when the sun is coming up.”
I run a finger along the counter, making a trail in the dust that has settled there. I swirl circles around the cat footie prints, then I move to the main room and tend to the windows there. One screen gives me a bit of trouble, but through gentle persuasion I manage to get it up and latched into place. “Gonna need a little oil,” I think.
Looking about, the magic sofa is askew and looks as though it could use some attention. The chair is pushed on its side, and the wardrobe doors are open, revealing it to be empty, with the exception of a few hangers. The rug is still here, not looking any worse for the time. I think about needing to sweep the chimney before I light any fires in the fireplaces.
“Don't want to roast any critters.” I say to Miss Lilly.
Moving towards the front door, I suddenly remember the noose trap. Carefully pressing the trigger board with my toe, I feel it move and realizing that there is some resistance, I know the trap is set. “Those buggers”, I say to the cat. “Leave to them to have set the trap.”
I disarm the contraption, secure the trigger board, and then unlock the door. Once opened, I unhook the storm door so it too, will open. I see that the screen door has a gash in the upper screen, and the closure spring is just dangling there. It will need a new hook to function properly, but for now, I leave it open. “I may have to go into town for some things.” I say to myself.
I make my way outside to the pickup, and open the back door of the crew cab. I retrieve my bedroll, and a sack that contains my cup, coffee pot and a box of coffee pads. Next I move to the back of the truck, open the cap and drop the tailgate to get the cooler out of the bed. Placing the bedroll and sack on the cooler, I pick up the stacked things and carry them to the cabin. The quietness of the surroundings makes the noise of the swishing ice seem exceptionally loud. I place the cooler on the kitchen table. Then I take the sack off the top and put that on the counter. The tin cup and pot make a clinking sound as the contents of the bag settle.
Then I grab the bedroll and go upstairs, with Miss Lilly leading the way, of course. The third step still has that squeak and I think about all the times that squeak had given someone away as they tried to sneak up the steps. The thought of that makes me smile.
The bed is still there, covered with just a sheet, no pillows are about. The bathroom looks okay, I'll find out more in the morning when I turn the water back on. I make a mental note to call the electric company tomorrow and get the power turned back on, but for tonight it will be lanterns, bottled water for coffee and the chorus of crickets and bullfrogs for entertainment.
I open the upstairs windows, then go out on the balcony to secure the shutters. Back inside, I pull the sheet from the bed, wad it up and toss it on the floor, against the wall. Next I open the bedroll and spread the blankets out on the bed. The orange cat immediately hops on the blankets and begins her pawing motion. “You're not going to sleep already, are you?” I ask, “You slept almost the entire ride here.” I go back down to the truck.
Retrieving more supplies from the cab, I get two lanterns, a box of matches, and another gunny sack. The light is starting to fade as I make my way back into the cabin. I take the two lanterns inside, placing one on the kitchen counter and the other on the table next to the magic sofa.
Keeping the box of matches, I head for the truck again and get a folding chair out of the bed, closing the tailgate and cap flap. I take the chair to the old fire pit and open it, I manage to find enough kindling and dry wood to get a decent fire going. Then it's back inside to fill the coffee pot with bottled water from the cooler… I stuff in 3 coffee pads.
Miss Lilly hops up onto the counter and bumps my hand with her head. “I bet you're wanting some grub, ain't ya?” I ask her. Opening the gunny sack, I fish out the doubled cat dish, fill the water side and she's already trying to get a drink before I get it on the counter. Next I dig out the box of cat food, and fill the food side of the dish. Miss Lilly begins to munch away, lifting her head to look at me as if to say “It's about time.” A piece of food drops from her mouth while she's chewing.
I grab my tin cup, the filled coffee pot and go back to the fire. On my way back I was lucky enough to find three flat rocks to use as a trivet. Placing them in the fire, I set the coffee pot on top of my improvised stand.
I go back to the cabin to close the screen door. As I start to push the screen door closed, Miss Lilly makes an appearance and meow's once at me.
“Well, come on,” I say, holding the door open for her, “How was dinner by the way?” I ask as the orange tail scoots by.
Then I push the door shut until it latches. I finger the gash and determine that the entire screen will need to be replaced. While passing by the truck I get my pack of cigars from the glove box, and my rifle from the back of the cab then make my way to the fire. Its dark now and the bullfrogs are in fine voice, as the orchestra of crickets and katydids play their symphony behind me.
Leaning the rifle on a piece of log behind me, I sit back in the chair, push my hat to the back of my head with a finger and light up a smoke, taking a long drag I blow a few smoke rings as I think back to fireworks being set off from the other side of the lake. Not too much time passes and I hear a hiss come from the fire.
“One boil.” I say to Miss Lilly while moving the rifle a bit closer to me, so as to have it within easy reach. “One more and there will be coffee.” Finally, the second boil happens, and reaching in to the fire, using my bandana as a pot holder, taking the pot, I then pour myself a nice, hot cup of coffee and place the pot back near the fire. The tin cup is hot from the coffee, but soon the rim cools enough for a sip. A small “ahhhh” escapes my lips as the flavor of the coffee washes over my pallet.
“It's a nice soft night, with enough of a breeze to keep the 'no-see-ums' away.” I think as I take another sip of coffee and a long drag from the macanudo, puffing the smoke out slowly, ignoring all the thoughts in my mind on what needs to be done. While gazing out across the lake, I stretch out my legs a little, cross my boot clad feet, and settle back in the chair. I hear a soft cry next to me, and upon looking down, I see Miss Lilly is looking up at me. Actually, she's staring at me, and… she talking to me in cat speak. “Meowr, mer, mewr, grrr, meow.”
“What is wrong with me? How the hell could I be so damned forgetful? Please your Higness, forgive me.” I ask her. Setting my cup and cigar down on a rock near the fire, I hop up from the chair. Miss Lilly doesn't budge, but keeps her eyes on me, watching my every move.
I hustle over to the truck and get the little folding table from the back, then I get the folded afghan from the front seat. Back at the fire, I open the table, secure the top, then set it next to my chair. I place the still folded afghan on top. Miss Lilly immediately leaps onto the afghan and settles down to take a cat bath. One of her back legs goes straight up into the air as she begins to lick her nether regions.
“That's not very lady like,” I remark. Then I ask, “Happy now?” while sitting back down into my chair.
Once again, I stretch out my legs and cross my feet. Reaching down to pick up the coffe pot and pour a little more coffee into the tin cup. Then I pick up the cigar, and give a couple of quick puffs to get it going again. I take a long drag.
Miss Lilly finally settles down, lets out a big yawn and I say to her, “I swear, one of these times you're gonna turn your head inside out.”
She just glances at me, curls up on her afghan and then shuts her eyes. I lean back, close my eyes and listen to the sounds of nature and the crackling fire while I savor my coffee and cigar. Feeling quite comfortable I say, “Miss Lilly… we'll unload the truck tomorrow.”
Suddenly…
…I want to lick some ice cream…
Amy Grant
featuring Sheryl Crow & Eric Paslay
“Deep As It Is Wide”Grrrrrrrr
Missed that KittenLePurr was back for a few days.Randy Newman
“Naked Man” -
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