|
Saturday, June 25, 2005 Hot. For northern Vermont? Way hot. Temperature close to 90 in the shade and climbing, the air thick and hazy with high humidity. A breeze finds its way in the windows now and then, friendly like, and thank god for that. I had plans to take a drive south of Montpelier, but have decided to stay at home and flop instead. Read, write, drink cool liquids. Continue a campaign of drowning a certain kind of brown beetle that has shown up here in huge, hungry numbers this summer, defoliating certain bushes and flowers around the house. I got the picture yesterday when I discovered several giant marigold plants -- often considered a deterrent to hungry, plant-scarfing bugs -- had been stripped clean of leaves and were rapidly losing their blossoms. Then noticed the beetles were all over a couple of high-bush cranberry plants near the back stoop, well on the way toward picking them clean as well. I remembered an elderly woman I knew in my young years who used to eliminate japanese beetles from her blueberry bushes by brushing them off leaves into a container of water, drowning them. That sent me into the house to grab a large cookpot, half-fill it with water. An hour of beetle hunting later, I had the plants mostly binge-eating-bug-free. I'm not a big one for killing critters. Long as they're not trying to sting, bite or siphon away my precious bodily fluids, I figure they have as much right to be here as I do. There are times of imbalance, though, that require steps be taken. (And where, I ask myself, have all the natural checks and balances been? Like the hordes of hungry birds who wake me up far too early every morning shouting back and forth in obnoxious joy at the start of another day (probably busy hoovering down the baby praying mantises I released this last week). The spiders are a lost cause -- they're all too busy trying to get into the house, find a quiet corner and build a comfy web to hang out on, waiting for the early hours when they can get their kicks walking across my face, make me wake up thrashing about like a gibbering speedfreak holding a high-voltage line.) The strangest development of the last week: me signing up for satellite radio. Can't really explain why I did it -- apart from the little I've heard internet, which left me underwhelmed, most of what I've heard has been at the local gym, where they mainline a channel of classic rock/big-hair rock. I am not big into pining for the past -- my general feeling is I've heard enough rock/pop from the 60s, 70s, 80s, etc. to last me the rest of this lifetime and beyond. I like exposure to new stuff, I like variety. But I'm also not big into commercial radio. I tend to stick to the bottom end of the dial, where most college stations live, where I can pick up NPR or the CBC when the mood strikes. The problem: out here in the middle of nowhere, ain't much radio to be found in that part of the FM band. (Yet another thing to love about Madrid: the national stations, especially Radio 3, tend to keep me happy.) Suddenly, last weekend, I found myself seized by the urge to sign up for Sirius, try it out for a while. Checked out their webpage, they had a rebate going, I found myself ordering (part of me watching me do it, going Huh? the whole time). Mid-week the equipment arrived, I threw it all together, activated the account, began listening. And found myself enjoying it way more than I'd expected. Way, way more. So far sticking mostly with two techno channels (trance/progressive house, chill) and the garage rock channel, all of it turning out be to be tons more addictive than I'd ever expected. And then I find myself seized with the desire for peace, turning off radio, music. Listening to the breeze, the birds, to the sounds of the house. You got your yin, you got your yang, I guess. So there you are. Right. Well. Hot. Must go drink cold liquids. Later. Madrid, te echo de menos. rws 1:34 PM [+]
Comments:
Post a Comment
|