Aunte Em! Auntie Em!

[arliss]

H and I saw RotK for the seventh time today. If it's still in theatres in two weeks or so I might go again, but if it's gone before then, this was the last time in the theatre. Until the December 2004 Extended Editions Trilogy Event. Well, I can dream.

I paid especial note to the music this time, and really only teared up at the "What, Gandalf? See what?" scene, and the Grey Havens. Okay, and on Mt. Doom when the flute starts. The flute gets me. Even if I have the cd on in the background and I'm watching tv, chatting online and holding a conversation with someone in the room (okay, I'd never have the tv *and* the stereo on at the same time. Unless the tv sound was muted.) and the flute starts, I'm Pavlov's dog, the tears start.

"No, I don't want it done. I don't want it pink. Sear it and put it on my plate. Please," and came home to watch the last Firefly dvd. The Message had just gotten to the shot across Serenity's bow, and a wind whooshed through the four-inch opening I'd left the window down, and we could hear the buoy bell and the wind chimes on the deck ringing like Armageddon. The lights flickered and the computer restarted --twice--and the cat freaked. The cat hates wind. I closed all the windows on that side of the house, and then realized the vacuum on the lee side was sucking the curtains and blinds up against the screens and making a racket, so I closed those too. Meanwhile, H was out on the deck watching the trees dance and getting peppered by a fine spray of rain. "Come out here! It's awesome!" Um, no. I can feel the house shake from in here just fine, thanks. And those trees are bent double!

I went back inside to check on the cat. Best not to leave him to freak alone. As I went into the kitchen, I heard a terrible clatter, like a whole flock of clawed, fangy things with leathery wings were trying to dig into the house through the siding, sheathing boards and drywall. I shouted H into the house and made him listen. "It's the trim strip between the vinyl and the brick. One end's come loose and it's whipping around like...a really thin piece of formerly vinyl clad aluminum." He went back outside, and I continued looking for the cat. As I passed the bathroom, I heard really ominous cracking tearing sounds from the back yard. I really didn't want to know. The wind was bending the trees *away* from the house, I didn't care if they fell, as long as they fell the other way.

In 10 to 15 minutes it was all over. Little gusty breezes, but nothing at all scary. I don't know what the siding on the north side looks like, nor the roof, but I'll bet we lost some shingles. The younger thinner white pines that were bent double are standing at an angle now--maybe 15 degrees, a little more. But the big pine in the corner snapped off at one-story height, and is lying propped on the corner of the garage. If it falls any further, it'll take out the neighbor's carport.

Poor old tree. It's always been here. My skyline has changed, drastically.

I'll be on the road tomorrow. They're forecasting WIND in capital letters. Let's hope I can keep my little 200SX on the road.

Comments

I'm thinking of you....

[serasempre.livejournal.com]

I'm imagining we're having tea together, somewhere on the grounds of that lovely place, and you're telling me all about the peace you feel, and the strength, and, maybe, that little trickle of inspiration that you know will grow if you just stay quiet and nurture it.

For you.

Re: I'm thinking of you....

[fufaraw]

Oh sweetie, I'm trying hard to be quiet and let it come. There actually have been a couple of tentative nibbles. More to come, I hope. I would love to have tea with you here. All the gardens are kept up by a local garden club, The Dirt Gardeners, headed by a 90+ year old woman with an indomitable will, an encyclopedic knowledge of gardening, and a green polyester pantsuit that is her gardening uniform. She's here every Tuesday AM with her kneeling pad in hand, marshalling her forces. And the grounds are always lovely, even while they are always in flux. This morning they moved the wirework table and chairs from the end of the lily pond to the side, under a centenary weeping cherry, and placed a teak bench (in memoriam of someone local) where the table and chairs were. We could sit by the lily pond, under the pink fronds of the cherry that's just starting to bloom, and listen to the fountains play and the frogs splash, and the sun glint on the bronze heron statue. Or we could sit on the new brick terrace overlooking the wild garden beyond the lawn, and the pergola and the meadow beyond that, and watch the birds and the squirrels going about their little domestic business. Or we could stroll through the long gardens and the witch garden, admiring the dolphin fountain (even though it isn't working just now) at one end and the birdbath at the other. I'd love it if you were here. Me? I haven't been out at all. I've been so achy, and I've been trying to be good and relax and let words come. I open the window to hear the fountains and watch the gardens from my window, and then it's back to the desk with me.

But I had to answer your comment. Also? That icon is beeyootiful! And I will nab it for my very own as soon as I get home to my own computer. I'm afraid to right-click it on the shared computer. Thank you--it's gorgeous! I love the one with the child and the bear you did for Cindy, too. I do have a couple of photos on my hard drive I'd love for you to fancy up as icons. Friday or Saturday.

Okay, gonna run back to my room and let someone else check their email.