| Helter Swelter |
[Apr. 25th, 2019|08:38 pm]
rejectomorph
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This evening I thought I heard a cricket, but it turned out to be that mockingbird. Its repertoire is quite impressive, and I do enjoy listening to it, but I wish I could hear a real cricket. If Paradise were still there I'd probably be hearing them now. I'd most likely be on the back porch watching Shorty and Porky eat dinner, and the yard would smell of damp since I'd have just watered it, and then freshened the cats' water bowls. There would probably still be some frogs singing, too, since it was such a wet winter and the little stream in the vale a block east of the house would still be running. I'd sit in the cooling evening air listening to the frogs and crickets and the last chatter of the acorn woodpeckers and watch the stars emerging. I wonder if I'll ever get to see stars again?
In the house the windows would all be open by now, cooling it off from the day's heat. The greater heat here is lingering, and although I've got the HVAC fan on this apartment has not yet gotten below 81 degrees, and still almost that hot outdoors. I thought about going out today, once it cooled off a bit, but it never did, so I stayed here. Fifty years ago a day like this would have seen me out wandering around Los Angeles, but I no longer have the energy for such things. And Chico lacks L.A.'s attractions, in any case. These days, and in this place, heat just makes me want to drink icy drinks and doze.
Since I didn't get to Safeway last week there are things I need that I must get tomorrow, but I can get them at the store that is more easily bus accessible, as long as I go at the right time of the afternoon. The right time of the afternoon for the convenient bus is, however, not the right time of the afternoon for being out and about in Chico's heat. Tomorrow will be about the same temperature today was. I do not relish the prospect of this chore— though at least I'm likely to have the bus almost to myself, since mad dogs are not allowed to ride the buses, and not even crazy Englishmen are crazy enough to be in Butte County this time of year.
It's dark out now. I'll bet the stars are shining on the ridge, and there's hardly anybody there to see them. |
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