The Rain is Pain and I’ve Got Bats in the Belfry
The rain is starting to get on my nerves this year. I know, I know–we needed a good wet/cold/snowy in the Cascades flooding in the Chehalis Basin kind of winter after the last couple of years of drought here in the Northwest. And I’m trying so hard not to be selfish and not to whine about things. I’m sure I’ve been through worse winters here. And last years wildfires were devastating on so many levels. So I should just act like an adult and shut up already but WAAAAA! I want to go out in the garden and play with plants.
Sure, I could go out there. I could put on my long underwear, sweats, fleece and heavy socks under my galoshes, drab green rubber overalls, rain slicker, wooly hat and heavy, clumsy rubber gloves and not actually freeze to death. I would probably just get goose bumpy and sniffley and blinded by my rain speckled and foggy glasses. I could. I’ve done all that before. Many times. But I don’t want to be cold and wet and blind and making so much noise in my rubberized protective clothing that I can’t even hear the birds tweet for goodness sake!
Besides, most of that gear is in my studio where the spiders live. The big spiders. The ones that love to hide in the clothes hanging from the rafters. And the possibility exists that a bat might be out there too, the rafter ties being open at the ends in several places as they are, making the perfect entrance for bats. I’ve never seen a bat in there, but the possibility exists. I know for certain they live in the pump house having had one drop from the inside of the door last winter when I was silly enough to open it. That is one creepy out building. And they live behind the shingles and siding on most all of the out buildings here in the big woods. They tend to get the old man ducking and flailing about on the top of his rickety aluminum ladder trying to dodge them when they flutter out of their little slumber chambers while he’s working. They didn’t used to creep me out so much until I read an article that reported that rabies infections caused by bat bites sometimes go unnoticed until the foaming at the mouth and tremors and excruciating pain starts. How the hell could you get bit by a bat and not know it? Maybe those cheesy Bella Lugosi movies weren’t so cheesy after all. At any rate, I’m not taking any chances with the rain gear. I’m staying in until the sun comes out. I’ll sit right here at the lap top sipping tea until the sun coming through those windows blinds me and makes the screen unreadable with the glare.
You may see me out there sometime in July. I’ll be pale, squinty eyed and dehydrated from the diuretic effects of drinking copious amounts of hot tea. But I will not be wearing rubber. And I will be smiling.