THINKING IN THE DARK

Now that the wintry specter of December has arrived, it gets dark incredibly early. Here in the mountainous midst of nowhere, the feeble sun sinks quickly behind trees and hilly shadows rudely snuff the light. Darkness threatens by 3:30 p.m.

A mild rain kept the temperatures up for awhile. Then the rain clouds cleared at sunset two days ago. I went out on the front porch to take some photos. The temperature was dropping rapidly and it would be a frigid night.

When I stepped back inside the power was out. Again. The wind probably had something to do with the outage this time. It was whistling through treetops and wailing around the corners of the house. 

No power meant no heat. No cooking. No.....computer. My laptop has a battery, of course, but I wasn't in the mood to mess with it. 
The oil lamps had no oil.
Kerosene isn't exactly foremost on my supply list when I drive the 2,000 miles into town to get groceries.
Slight exaggeration. It's probably only 200....
(do I receive penalties for slight exaggerations??)

I grabbed a flashlight, candles and matches, and a transistor radio that only dares to pick up one or two stations.

I captured the last golden glow of light which dramatically illuminated the windows.

I then watched the light fade to nothing
from my bedroom window. With the darkness came the bone-rattling chill. As the dark hours dragged on it became incredibly cold.

 my bedroom window

There wasn't much to do but stumble around and shiver uncontrollably, so I crawled into bed.

I left the window shade up so I could gaze out at the incredible blackness and the brilliant shimmer of stars.

The night is mercilessly dark here and infinitely lonely. Actually I'm used to this isolation and I love it. Despite the inconvenience of no power, it lends me time to think.

Silence and darkness embellished with thought. 

The wind finally dwindled and ceased. The silence seemed to thicken on this night. No coyotes, no wild dogs, no owls.

Bosco got under the covers with me as usual. Furry and heavy, with extra warmth that is welcomed. He has a slight but perpetual nasal problem and snores when he sleeps. But I'm used to it.

Trust me, I've had many bed partners who were much more annoying than Bosco...

...but that's another story for another time. 

Just to ensure that the end of this tale is a happy one - - the power went back on before dawn.

 Bosco

Note:

Ever since the new UNWANTED changes on Blogger (including the disappearance of the old "dashboard") I have been having trouble accessing blogs and finding your recent posts. I'm forced to go on unwanted scavenger hunts.

Just wanted you to know that if I haven't visited your blog lately, I still love ya.... 

...well, all except for you rude Bozos who abandoned me because you hated my anti-Hillary Clinton posts.
(should I insert a grim *smile* here?)  

 

SPOOKY NIGHT

If you saw the isolated place where I live you'd wonder why I chose to be here. If you knew how creepy it is at night, you'd give me big points for bravery.

The first few weeks were the most intimidating. I wasn't used to the penetrating darkness, or the unnerving forest sounds. Or the fact that any semblance of human assistance was far away.

I'm alone. With my cats. And my rampantly acute imagination. The long, inhospitable hours between dusk and dawn are filled with the unholy possibilities of marauding murders, restless ghosts, and inhuman abstractions in search of vulnerability.

As a child, my imagination was delicious. It is even more so now - with the sophisticated additions of adulthood.

So what am I getting at? Hell if I know. I was merely exercising my mediocre way with words.

Oh, yea. A spooky night. 

After existing nearly two years in this place (I moved here in November, 2014) I am completely used to it. The lonely, isolated nighttime hours never bother me. I occasionally venture outside at night. I leave the shades up on my windows. I have even been known to leave a door unlocked now and then.
Insanity prevails here - - not bravery.

But - despite my feigned fearlessness - there are times when raw reality hits me and I'm afraid. Only momentarily, but afraid nevertheless.  
Last night was spooky.

I was writing in bed, working on my nearly-completed children's book. It was a warm, clear, quiet, completely calm night. 

Just before midnight the lights began to flicker. Then they blinked off.....on.....off.....on. Off. Power failure.
Everything went black. And when I say black, I mean pitch black. Words can hardly express the profound depth of darkness in this remote place. I was completely unprepared. 

As if on cue (I am not exaggerating), a pack of coyotes started hooting and howling and wandered up the slope to my house. They surrounded the place and seemingly taunted me with their eerie inhuman yelps and jeers.

It was really unnerving. I wasn't dressed. Couldn't find my boots. Couldn't find a flashlight. As I groped and wandered around, bashing into things and doing a bad Helen Keller imitation, my imagination was in overdrive.

What could have caused a power failure tonight? There were no storms, no wind. No nothing. My mind suddenly conjured visions of In Cold Blood....and Helter Skelter. What if the wires were deliberately cut - and murderous maniacs were outside, intent on getting in?  

I finally found the flashlight and managed to put on some clothes. I lit two candles in the kitchen, put batteries in a transistor radio, and grabbed my cell phone.

The coyotes eventually left but I still heard weird noises near the back porch - which is nearly on the edge of the forest. 

Abandoning fear, I took my flashlight and gun (hell yes - I'm armed) and went outside. The darkness was beyond black - no moon, no nothing. The first thing I ran into was a big spider web (a repeat of what I did the other day). 
With flashlight, pistol, and remnants of the web I pushed through damp, waist-high weeds and circled the house. Nothing. All was quiet except for the usual owl hooting in a nearby tree.

Back in the house, my fears evaporated completely...but new apprehensions arose. I remembered that I had lots of food in the fridge and freezer - enough for two weeks. It would perish if the power didn't return.

I called the after-hours number for the local power company. No answer.
I said to hell with everything! and went to bed. 
Kept my window wide open and laid there  watching the bright stars. My cat Bosco climbed onto my chest and we both went to sleep.

I woke up around 8:00 this morning and the power was still off. I called the power company again and ....just as a recorded message put me on "hold" - - the power came back on!!

It was amazing and I rejoiced. 

I took a helluva long time to tell a story about absolutely nothing, but that's one of my talents....and charms. 

 

GHOSTS OF THE FOREST

Do I believe in ghosts?
Well, let's just say that several firsthand experiences have inspired me to be a believer when I otherwise wouldn't have been one.

Many initially unexplainable things are eventually dispelled with logical resolutions. Some things are the result of over-active imaginations or illusions. I, for one, do believe in evil spirits and negative forces. Demons. The Dark Side.

Do I scare easily?
Not any more. It takes a helluva lot to scare me. I've been through far too much. In time, eternal fear turns into exasperated anger and loses its potency. 

Long ago I was a timid wimp, afraid of my own shadow. I spent the first half of my life being terrified of my father and his relentless rage. I eventually learned to deal with the endless pile of negative shit that is dumped on us from cradle to grave. It's called survival.

But I'm off track, as usual - - wandering from ghosts to anger. Where was I?

Ghosts. In the forest. 
When I first moved out here in the wilderness, I was admittedly slightly intimidated. Especially at night. Being alone in a midnight forest gives new meaning to  isolation and darkness. There were all kinds of strange noises, inhuman sounds. And the absolute darkness was unnerving. I locked the doors. My imagination went into overdrive.

Eventually I got used to it and almost began to like it. I now go outside at night with hardly a negative thought. I pay little attention to the howling coyotes or wolves or dogs - - or all the other strange noises of the forest. I'm cautious - I'm not a fool - - but I'm not scared.

When night falls.....

A few nights ago it was warm and unusually quiet. I'm doing some house chores at around 1:30 a.m. and happen to go outside to empty a bucket of water. I turn on the back porch light.

My back yard is right on the edge of the forest. It's a moonless night. I suddenly see a pair of eyes glowing yellow-gold in the nearby thicket. It moves slowly across the sightless length of the woods and disappears. I stand there, looking in the direction of the vanishing point. Nothing.

What was it? Coyote? Wolf? Werewolf?? 
Naw, couldn't be werewolf. No full moon. Just as I'm about to go inside, I see something else in the forest - - in the opposite direction of the aforementioned glowing eyes. It's a light. An orb. Round, glowing. It disappears. Just when I'm convinced it was only my acute imagination, I see it again: moving among the trees.

Now I'm spooked. What is it? A flashlight? If so, who would possibly be out in a forest in the middle of nowhere at nearly 2:00 a.m.? A blood-drenched escapee from a mental hospital, desperately looking for shelter.......

I hurry inside, lock the door, turn out all the lights. Grab my cell phone. Who am I gonna call - Ghostbusters?
 My kitchen window is oversized and curtainless. I sit by it, looking out at blackness until my eyes slowly adjust. I see the orb light again, and then another, and another. They're drifting among the trees - - some low to the ground, others higher up. They vanish, then reappear.

Are they ghost lights? Will O' the Wisp? Ignis Fatuus? Feux follets? My intuition tells me they're fireflies. I'm certainly familiar with lightning bugs (which are supposedly fireflies) but they emit a soft, yellowish glow. These forest orbs are large, blueish in color, and bright. Perfectly round.

I become so mesmerized by the lights that I eventually go outside, walk to the edge of the forest, and watch for at least fifteen minutes. It's an enchanting display of post-midnight magic: lazy round lights, drifting on a sea of nothingness, blinking in blue iridescence.

I anxiously wait to see them again the next night, but it's cooler and there are fewer lights.
Tonight, as I write this, it's very cold and there are no forest lights at all.

No ghosts. No escapee maniacs. My uneducated guess is fireflies. Or, perhaps, Will O' the Wisp.
Whatever they are, I'll look forward to seeing more of them on the next warm night.

This picture of Will O' the Wisp, which I lifted from the Internet, is exactly what they looked like.

 Note: I removed my most recent blog post Family Photo Album. I might re-post it in the future.

LET THERE BE LIGHT

One of the ten plagues of ancient Egypt was Darkness. I think it came right after Frogs, and preceded No Toilet Paper.

Let's pause here for a moment while I clear something up:
I was not a first-hand witness to the plagues. Despite what some of you might think, I am not that old.
Well, not quite that old, anyway.

I only know about the plagues because I've read my Bible. I'm well-versed.
(don't look for any play on words)

The prospect of absolute darkness doesn't seem scary when you're reading about it with sufficient light. When you're in the midst of darkness with no light at all, it takes on a whole new perspective.

Up here in the mountains, in the proverbial middle of nowhere, darkness is profound. The sun sinks very quickly in early evening, and when nature's light is extinguished the world assumes an intimidating isolation unlike anything else.

I've written about it before, and undoubtedly over-played it, but it really can't be emphasized enough. You never know how lonely alone can be until you spend the after-dark hours in a forest on a mountaintop.

As someone who values privacy and craves solitude, this vast isolation is an absolute pleasure for me. It feeds my sense of adventure and ignites my romantic imagination.

It also, however, makes me fully appreciate the luxury of light.

Today was cold, with persistent rain and an eventual fog that extinguished my plan to drive into town. In early evening I decided to nap. My sore throat is dragging on, along with my lethargy. I snuggled under the covers, listening to the rain and the purring of my nearby cats.

It was unusually dark when I woke up: a darkness that was immediately unnerving and inspired me to jump up and turn on a light.

Power outage. Alone on a mountain with no lights.

In the course of my active imagination, I had expected something like this to eventually happen - - but not quite so soon after moving in.

I'm much more annoyed than scared.
I can't find my shoes. I lost my cell phone.
Three frantic cats are scurrying underfoot. I can't find my wallet or keys. I don't even have a flashlight. It suddenly occurs to me how ridiculously unprepared I am for rural life.

The house is an obstacle course of unpacked boxes and haphazard furniture. I'm running into things, tripping over cats. While doing a clumsy Helen Keller imitation, I finally make my way to the kitchen. In a cabinet I find matches and some candles left over from Christmas Eve.

The prospect of spending an entire night in darkness isn't pleasant. If worse comes to worse, I could always drive to my cousin's house. Given the choice of two evils, however, I'd rather spend the night in a pitch black house than try to navigate the treacherous mountain roads.

Somewhere in the hours between midnight and eternity I hear the unmistakable sound of a truck laboriously driving through the mud and gravel that leads to my house. It's a work truck with flashing red lights.

I run outside to greet the unexpected guest. The driver assures me that they're fixing the outage and lights will be on soon.
I could hardly believe that anybody would be out here at this hour, working in such cold depthless darkness.

The worker was as good as his word. Within an hour power was restored. I started making dinner at midnight - with a great appreciation for light, and respect and gratitude for the heroic power company workers.