I hear the sound: Puh-puh-puh-BAM! Then, silence. Still, like a child that’s been caught in the act, before it starts again. Puh-puh-puh-rustle-rustle.
“Helllloooo,” I yell down to the kitchen from my upstairs office, secretly hoping someone is just visiting. Bringing me a little surprise perhaps? Delivering a gift?
Receiving no response, I go downstairs to investigate. Nothing.
Puh-puh-puh! Rustle, rustle, CLANK!
I race down again. Still nothing! A ghost? (At this point, I know I’m caught up in wishful thinking, but I’m holding out for alternatives to the plain reality.)
In the shower, I pray nothing attacks while I’m naked and defenseless. And there it is, again, right outside the bathroom door!
PUH-Puh-puh! It’s venturing up the stairs, outside the bathroom door, stops, and doubles back: puh-Puh-PUH! It’s heading into the kitchen!
The footfalls are far too loud for a rat. I’m concerned it could be something considerably larger, even a raccoon–and they bite!
I cautiously step into the library, where the sound seems to have traveled. No signs of life, but out on the floor, a clue. Six feet from the nearest shelf, a single book is out on the floor. Then to the back parlor, a painted glass, part of a fine Turkish tea set, lays on its side, thankfully intact. Suddenly, I see my visitor in the archway into the front parlor: a small gray squirrel. We lock eyes and both freeze. We’re equally confused.
I don’t see any reasonable way to catch it. Thankfully, it’s a spring-like day and I can throw the front door open to let the fresh breeze waft in and, hopefully, entice the squirrel back out. And the strategy seems to work. After I close the door a half hour later, I hear no further footfalls.
This is a confusing time, to be sure, for us both. Spring-like weather melts the ice only to create more ice every evening as the water refreezes. A plunging COVID caseload promises imminent freedom from the pandemic, but then word of a new, more virulent variant ready to surge. Everyone (even mild mannered Canadians) at the end of their patience, and me out of patience with everyone’s impatience. Everything is moving in circles, it seems. I place the painted glass in its rightful place and slide the book back on the right shelf. Al Gore’s Earth in the Balance. Possibly a message from my little friend?
The squirrel, I am sure, felt trapped without being able to figure a way out–and I know exactly how it feels. I’m waiting for someone to open the door for me too.
WHAT’S AVAILABLE THIS WEEK:
EGGS: $5/doz Limited supplies, which will increase as the hours of daylight do
LAMB COMING: Finally a date at the slaughterhouse. They go to market March 8. If you’ve expressed an interest in lamb, it will be ready frozen the second to third week in March, and I’ll be sending you a cut sheet. For you others, there will be cuts of lamb available then.
Email us your order at firstname.lastname@example.org, and let us know when you’d like to pick up your order. It will be put out for you on the side screened porch of the farmhouse (110 Lasher Ave., Germantown) in a bag. You can leave cash or a check in the now famous pineapple on the porch table. Because I’m now here full time, we’re abandoning regular pick-up times. Let us know when you want your order any day between 10 and 5, and unless there are unusual circumstances we’ll be able to ready it to your convenience. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call or text at 917-544-6464 or email.