Oct. 10th, 2006 09:56 am
A hawk from a handsaw
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muckefuckLast night, when my friend Don begged off from joining me at the Lake because (1) he'd just gone for a walk there himself and (2) he was dead tired and hadn't eaten yet, he told me, "If it's this nice tomorrow, call me and we'll go."
Well, it wasn't that nice. Sunday night, it was mild and clear and the Lake was so glassy it was eerie. (Literally for me, since I'd been reading Lovecraft all weekend and all I could think of was how clearly I'd be able to hear the sickening plop of a solitary Deep One dragging his slithering squamous form onto the shore in search of unaccompanied night strollers.) Last night, we had a strong nor'easter that was driving whitecaps several yards onto the beach and blasting all the loose sand from it and out almost to the Drive.
But that wasn't why he bagged on me. No, he had an unexpected guest. So I called up the Scoutmaster and we went, though only after he'd finished a basket of crisps and a pitcher of beer at the corner tavern. We missed seeing the moon rise, but it was heavily veiled anyway and left only a faint glimmer on the water's surface.
We walked for about an hour, upwind to Hollywood Beach (staying far enough inland to avoid the spray, which was being flung several yards from the edge of the rocks) and then back along the bike path (in the bike path for him, silly goat) to where the recent storm had downed an older tree at Winona. The City hasn't come to remove it yet and I'm afraid when they do, they'll take down the stump as well even though its roots are undisturbed and there's a sprout as large as a ten year-old sapling jutting from it. But all they have are hammers, so all they'll see is a nail to be pounded flat.
I wish I could say that all that exercise wore me out but good and I slept soundly, but I don't feel I did. Oh, well; tonight is probably an evening to stay in, read, and turn in early for a change.
Well, it wasn't that nice. Sunday night, it was mild and clear and the Lake was so glassy it was eerie. (Literally for me, since I'd been reading Lovecraft all weekend and all I could think of was how clearly I'd be able to hear the sickening plop of a solitary Deep One dragging his slithering squamous form onto the shore in search of unaccompanied night strollers.) Last night, we had a strong nor'easter that was driving whitecaps several yards onto the beach and blasting all the loose sand from it and out almost to the Drive.
But that wasn't why he bagged on me. No, he had an unexpected guest. So I called up the Scoutmaster and we went, though only after he'd finished a basket of crisps and a pitcher of beer at the corner tavern. We missed seeing the moon rise, but it was heavily veiled anyway and left only a faint glimmer on the water's surface.
We walked for about an hour, upwind to Hollywood Beach (staying far enough inland to avoid the spray, which was being flung several yards from the edge of the rocks) and then back along the bike path (in the bike path for him, silly goat) to where the recent storm had downed an older tree at Winona. The City hasn't come to remove it yet and I'm afraid when they do, they'll take down the stump as well even though its roots are undisturbed and there's a sprout as large as a ten year-old sapling jutting from it. But all they have are hammers, so all they'll see is a nail to be pounded flat.
I wish I could say that all that exercise wore me out but good and I slept soundly, but I don't feel I did. Oh, well; tonight is probably an evening to stay in, read, and turn in early for a change.
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The Ancient Ones are calling....
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