Sheesh. Okay, here comes another weather warning.
First, the washing machine’s pump quit functioning – midwash, of course – so the Baron has driven out to finish rinsing a coverlet. Despite the repairman’s assurances that the new part would be here “soon” we’re playing it safe by having the B take that half-finished wash to the laundromat. I know from experience it will be the first of next week before we have a functioning washer again. There is something in the nature of carpenters and repairmen that prevents them from delivering the Naked Truth. Since I’ve stared at her haunches a right good many years now, I’ve come to prefer her lineaments. But repairmen find it painful – they have to avert their eyes and give you “good” news.
Meanwhile, the shredded remnants of Hurricane Patricia, the one that was supposed to destroy the coast of Mexico but didn’t, has made her leisurely way from the Gulf up to us. There’s thunder out there, and on the radar I counted at least eleven storm cells bound to come on through, headed northeast…more or less.
Y’all know the fragile nature of our electric connection by now. As the lines come down the mountain, trees and branches could end up falling on any of them. Our electric co-op has a year-’round schedule of cutting those suckers back, but this is a heavily forested area. Timber is raised as a cash crop. That’s why we got a gas cooking range a few years ago, to save at least that stress. Wish we could power our phone and internet connection with gas…
Several people have asked why the electric lines aren’t buried underground as they are elsewhere. It’s true that some affluent areas have done just that but the mountains and the Piedmont area and the scattered nature of rural homes in a sparsely settled area put that cost out of reach of most of the co-operative’s customers. Our area didn’t even get electricity until the early 1960s. You can see that history laid out in Schloss Bodissey’s architecture: the kitchen and bath were integrated into the existing house at a much later date than the original construction. When this place came into being it was two rooms and a screened-in porch. They heated and cooked with a wood stove and carried water in from the well. There was a small pasture, a hen house, and a hand-tilled garden. I would love to have seen it in its original configuration but they darn sure didn’t have luxuries like cameras or the film to buy and develop.
All of which is to say, if you notice the comments aren’t coming in, or new posts aren’t appearing, it simply means ol’ Thor is in a mood; you can’t ever tell. And perhaps nothing will happen but I’ll fill the water jugs anyway. Yes, the pump in our deep well runs on…electricity.