Well, we aren’t exactly the “eagle” and we haven’t just arrived on the face of the Moon, but it certainly does feel like we’ve been away for a long time and traveled a very long way.
We arrived in Stamford, Vermont on Saturday, the 16th, and while I’m aware this is now Thursday, the 21st – it still feels like we’ve landed on the moon, but more accurately the OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON!! If you can remember from watching the movie Apollo 13 or just science in general – we here on Earth cannot receive any radio transmissions from the “dark side” of the moon, due to radio waves, radiation, interference, blah, blah, blah…
Now, tune into the Geography channel and check your maps for Stamford, Vermont.
Let me know what you think…dark side, or light side?
We have actually tried to contact people on our cell phones from the Bilger Family Home (hereafter referred to as the BFH – and you can assign any other acronyms you wish on this one) but we have tried to get decent cell coverage from the backyard of the BFH, the front yard, the deck, downstairs, upstairs, and was even going to try (at my darling husband’s suggestion) “from the top peak of the garage” to see if there was some way we could actually contact someone “on Earth” through the marvels of technology from this seemingly black hole. AND…
it just ain’t happening…well, every once in a while, if I hold the phone up over my head, which I have wrapped in aluminum foil (my head in foil – not the phone!) and stand on my right leg in a pirouette upon Donald’s shoulders – who by-the-by has to be rolled in 6-yards of chain-link fencing, and we are BOTH leaning toward Mecca, with me firmly grasping a sterling silver soup spoon in my left hand – it has been reported by the person on the receiver (who may are may NOT be the person we have actually dialed) says, “I can hardly hear you – sounds like yer calling from underwater in a Dempsey Dumpster.”
What a picturesque image that must paint…
Aside from the lousy reception here in Stamford, let me give you a few other observations from this hamlet that is the cradle of my beloved’s childhood…
The hills are a beautiful green, rolling over lush valleys. As twilight approaches, the landscape changes from shades of emerald green to a deeper hue of sage and evergreen and then blends into darker, dusty shades of verdigris…and that’s when the real drama unfolds…
We had scarcely gotten to the BFH, fiddled around to find the best place on Dad Bilger’s property to park, plug in, tap into a “water source” <- loose description here, more on that later, and “TA-DA” (drum roll please) deployed the AWNING!!!
WAHOO! We did it in record time!! It went up without a hitch and we have it unfurled in all its mildewed glory!
We also got the ex-pens up for the dogs, which here have additional real estate options. (That’s snob-speak for putting up extra plastic fencing and poles so that instead of having a postage stamp area of green astro-turf, they now have THREE postage stamps of space where they can languish on the REAL GREEN GRASS!! It’s not just grass – it’s clover and grass.
I can hear them crowing to their canine friends, or more likely howling into the night, what I think is an old drinking song, “Roll me over in clover and do it again!” Certainly not a hymnal – well, at least not in the Southern Baptist Church of Sturgis – but even so, one can tell that it’s in doggy delight. Especially Julio who keeps spending a significant amount of time rolling in the grass…as all canine’s should. Heck, we ALL should do it! He snuffles and snorts and wiggles and squirms, and looks entirely TOO blissful for it not to be an almost divine experience…maybe the old “roll me in clover” does have some ecclesiastical connections. Ya think?
ANYWAY, I digress…what’s new!
Back to the “drama” of the evening…before the sun has fully descended from view – there is a swoosh of wind, a flutter on the non-existent breeze, and whirring of wings above, and then (quivering crescendo from the strings section) out of the darkness we are assaulted by flying creatures whose soul function is to torment, stab, sting and suck blood of any living thing. I’m not talking vampires here (though the word “twilight” might have started to sway you) but mosquitos – the size of Chihuahuas, deer flies that have mini-machine guns, and these gnat-like things that “oh they don’t bite” but will show later (when smashed on the walls) to be sesame-seed-sized-blood-sucking-devils-with-wings which do indeed bite AND leave a welt that will itch the livin’ daylights out of you for the next 6 days.
It’s hot, it’s sticky, it’s muggy, AND before I get totally wrapped around the axle with how “icky” it is here - there is the most wonderful sound especially at night (if you can get over the droning of the insects) of the Roaring Brook – which is across the road from the BFH and has been known to lull one to sleep…if you can stop slapping, scratching and fidgeting to keep from being eaten alive.
I’ll give you more insights into our stay in the next few “editions” of this blog, but for now, I’m going to retire to my sleeping abode where I’ll huddle under numerous sheets to sleep…since we failed to bring netting.
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