rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Metal

More leaves are turning brown and yellow and red. Autumn's rustic colors. This year a reddish brown is even appearing on a building. The building didn't turn color. It's just that it didn't have any walls until a couple of days ago, and when the walls went on they suited the season perfectly. The building is just beyond my back fence, and is an enormous skyscraper. Well, by comparison to most buildings around here it's an enormous skyscraper. It's a three-car garage with an extra-high ceiling to accommodate an RV. It's the reason a few trees were taken out of that yard a few months ago.

It will serve the double-wide mobile home (aka peckerwood palace) the occupants of which have heretofore made do with the shiny, corrugated metal-skinned two-car garage which has provided me with so much autumn entertainment as a percussion instrument for the oak trees that loudly drop acorns on it. The new, larger garage also has a metal skin, though not of shiny galvanized steel. It has the reddish-brown metal, probably an extruded aluminum product, on its walls, and a tasteful off-white metal for its roof.

The roof went on today, and so far I haven't heard what the acorns can do with it. The oaks have fewer branches overhanging the new garage than they have over the old one, so the new one might turn out be only a minor player in the acorn orchestra despite its considerable size. I hope there's a bit of wind soon. I fear that most of this years bountiful acorn crop has already dropped, and I might have to wait for the next year that brings a big acorn crop to hear the full potential of the new roof. That might be quite some time, as many years the oaks here produce only small crops.

Sadly, that's the most interesting thing that's happened here in ages— that is if you don't count the fires last year or the various dramas created by the aged parents. I'm not counting those because I'd rather forget about them. Anyway, hooray for metal roofs. Without them I'd have even less amusement than I do.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments