Sundown

It was gray and overcast and chilly all day today but the clouds broke up enough for the sun to shine through at sunset.  Once again I stood on the porch and watched the sun sink behind the neighbor's house and tint the sky purple, orange, and pink.  The spectacle is worth standing in the cold for a few minutes.

I finished Cast Sock #6 this morning, getting those last three rounds done in no time at all.  I even managed to snap a not-quite-in-focus picture that shows the sparkles in the yarn.  I didn't cast on another one or another anything because I just didn't want to.  Don't know why.

A different bird came today!  This pale little Junco came for a drink followed by a dark charcoal Junco that stayed camouflaged in the grass while it pecked at the seed hulls I dumped from the platform feeder.  A male Cardinal stopped at  the birdbath for just long enough for me to reach for the camera and then it flew away.  Missed it.  Darn.

05 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

             That night I had planned a surprise for my merry band of workmen.  I had hired Zeke to set up his half-oil-drum grill in the back garden.  I bought fresh fish steaks from Billy the fisherman for him to grill for us for supper.  I excused myself from the afternoon's labors and went back to my studio for a package of rolls I got at the market, a fresh coconut cake from Amy's Bakery, and to make the biggest, healthiest tossed salad in the only vessel that I could find at the variety store large enough to hold it.

            Edward leaned over the pan of salad and frowned up at me.  "Mrs. Rose, you have a cat?"

            "Why do you ask?" I hid my smile behind my hand.

            He tapped the edge of the rectangular plastic pan with his fingertip.  "This a cat box."

            "It is," I said, "but I swear on my mother's grave that I bought it new and unused.  And I didn't choose the one on the top of the stack either.  I dug down for one and washed it carefully when I got it home."  I drew my fingers over my chest.  "Cross my heart."

            "Hm." He didn't look convinced but the other men jostled him from behind.

            "Fool, when Mrs. Rose ever lie to you?"

            "Just get some, we hungry."

            Finally Edward scooped a small amount of salad onto his plate, making sure that it didn't touch his other food.

            The cooler of beer that Johnno brought over helped dispel any lingering misgivings.

 

            The next day I walked around looking for where the last new-ish brass key might go.  None of the guest rooms had an extra keyhole and the last key didn't fit either bathroom lock.  I let my eyes roam over the lobby as I walked down the stairs, then started in one corner looking up and down for a place my key might open.  Nothing.  It was dim in the hall between the lobby and the kitchen but I didn't see a bump or a shadow that might be a keyhole. 

            Silas and Edward were working in the kitchen pulling down damp, crumbling plasterboard and spongy wood. "No nails for you to pull in this wood, Mrs. Rose," Silas said. "Not even termites would want to eat this moldy, mushy stuff." 

            "Good," I said, "I'm tired of pulling nails.  I want my nail pulling days to be behind me."  Silas shook his head.  "We will have to see about that." Then he smiled at me sidelong as if he knew something that I didn't.  I shook my head and went down the short hall into my eventual apartment. 

            No keyholes.  The bathroom door didn't lock, neither did the bedroom door. I'd have to put in new knob mechanisms with locks.  I hope that I'd bought enough of them in Miami.  The only lock in the owner's bedroom was the rusty one embedded in the floorboard under the dresser.  What was left? 

            I went out onto the back porch, standing with my fists on my hips, and surveyed the area.  Beside the back door a wooden bench stretched from the house wall to the edge of the porch, about four feet.  I took a closer look and there it was, the last brass lock that I hoped matched the last brass key.  I put the key into the lock, slowly turned it, and felt the tumblers shift, and the lock open.  The lid had swollen from years of salt air and it took some effort and a bit of grunting for me to lift it. 

            A sour smell wafted up and made me step back.  The box was filled with old life jackets that hadn't been clean when they were put in there and storage in that airtight box hadn't done them any favors.  I was surprised that no critters had moved in with them until I realized that the box was lined with metal.  The life jackets went into the dumpster.

Today's toss was eight Waterford champagne flutes but they're going to a good home, not to Goodwill.  I texted DIL1 about them and she'll take them.  Hooray!  And I get to deliver them tomorrow afternoon along with a bag of finger Jello per LC's request.  Orange.

Even though it wasn't sunny this afternoon I made myself go out for a walk around the block.  It isn't far, probably half a mile, but it's better than staying on my keester all day.  Writing went okay today too.  Maybe I am getting a little better at it.  I probably shouldn't have said that, now tomorrow words will be in short supply.  When will I ever learn?

--Barbara