The meadow at the edge of my property:
Lovely but dangerous when wet
On Thursday night I decided to go to bed early, which was around 3:00 a.m. As a hardcore night owl, I often don't embark for Dreamland until dawn. Then I'll get up in about three or four hours to start my day.
This could possibly be the reason why I usually feel completely exhausted, quasi comatose, and on the verge of death - but I'm not sure.
Anyway, as soon as I climbed into bed, a massive thunderstorm began. Torrential rain, nerve-shattering thunder, and lightning so sharp and bright that it singed the hair on my chest and eradicated several of my best tattoos.
I only threw the tattoo part in to colorize my story and possibly pique your waning interest.
Since there was no possibility of sleep, I laid in bed for several hours watching the storm from the window. All three of my cats went into hiding because of the thunder, so I had the luxury of having the bed all to myself.
Incidentally, I have no curtains or blinds on my bedroom window because I love gazing out at my rustic surroundings (and the lightning) while snuggled in bed. I never worry about prying eyes or Peeping Toms. Heck, I'm in the mountainous middle of nowhere. Who's gonna see me - - Bigfoot? Smokey the Bear?
My boudoir window
By mid-morning the storm subsided and the torrent dwindled to a drizzle. By early afternoon the sun appeared and the freshly-drenched landscape (mountainscape?) looked gorgeous. Since the temperature had dropped drastically there weren't very many bees or wasps to annoy me.
Check out my previous post to read about the aforementioned bees and wasps.
It seemed to be a perfect time to venture outside and take some photos.
If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you'll know that I'm a fairly new and inexperienced resident of the mountain wilderness. I've never quite grown accustomed to the dangerous slopes. I had several extremely nasty falls on the ice last winter - one of which was so bad that my back still aches every time I move.
Ever since then, I've tried to take some precautions. I've traded my slippery cowboy boots for shoes with rubber soles and traction. I'm careful where I walk and usually watch where I'm going.
So I'm outside, wearing rubber-sole shoes, and scaling the hazardous slopes with reasonable caution. And I'm capturing the wonders of nature with my El Cheapo digital camera.
As I point my lens skyward, toward the tops of the towering trees, my skid-proof soles come in quick contact with slick mud. I'm suddenly airborne and even more suddenly landing directly on my astonished ass.
The slide down the muddy hill is so fast and seamless that I don't have time to be scared. I crash into the side of the house with such force that the breath is knocked out of me.
I'm completely covered in mud. My right leg took the brunt of the impact and my knee is twisted. My wrists hurt. My back has discovered new dimensions of agony. If I still have my spine, it probably looks like a corkscrew.
As I laid there for fifteen minutes (no exaggeration) three thoughts crossed my mind:
1. If it wasn't for the house, I would have probably slid all the way to Kentucky.
2. The tires on my new wheelchair will have to have damn good tread.
3. My digital camera is undoubtedly in the trees.
After I locate my camera (it wasn't in the trees) and limp to the house, I begin to fully realize how extremely dangerous this place is - no matter what kind of shoes you're wearing. Hell, I hated Texas, but at least it was on level ground.
This was a repeat performance of my wretched experience last winter. Same fall. Same slide. Same pain. The only thing missing was the ice.
My surroundings are beautiful,
but is it worth the pain?
(all photos were taken yesterday)
(all photos were taken yesterday)
Not too good. I ache in places I never knew I had, but at least I can still walk. I'm suddenly realizing that I might not be so lucky next time.
It took a helluva long time for me to tell this story, but extending small incidents is my specialty.