Managing Many Moods
Glenn, MI
June 12, 2020
Our schizophrenic lake had shown only one personality. For three days, it was calm, quiet, and serene, like a strait-laced, buttoned-up librarian on a Sunday in Mayfield. Barely a ripple ruffled its smooth surface. The sky was clear and the air was still.
Tuesday night, the library closed and the fleet pulled into port. Books went back on the shelf as bottles came on to the bar. And the tab was open.
Soon, so were the heavens, and hell broke loose. That afternoon, as we sat on the beach, ominous white caps gathered on the horizon, and approached the shore like the Persian armada bound for Salamis. By dusk, we hunkered for the siege. Overnight, the assault began.
The remnants of Tropical Storm Cristobal sailed umimpeded across the open lake, bringing high winds, torrential rain, and a barrage of lightning into the small hours. By dawn, the wind remained, and stayed thru the day. The skies unleashed a second attack at mid-day, but then cleared. Somehow, we lost no power and sustained no damage. Aside from a few downed branches and scattered debris, all was intact at our temporary home.
Meanwhile, a text arrived from our permanent one.
A neighbor is kind enough to feed our cats and water our plants. As she entered the house to tend those flora and fauna, she found plaster and puddles filling the foyer floor. She glanced up to a widening hole in the soaked ceiling. Above that is a bathroom, the apparent source of an obvious leak. But a hidden one.
On the phone, I tried talking our neighbor thru possible sources, and also to the main valve to shut off the water. She couldn’t find the one, and couldn’t reach the other. Not lost on us was the irony that after being in that house almost every minute of the last couple months, this happens the moment we leave for a few days.
In addition to a kindly neighbor, we are blessed also with a reliable plumber. And one who happened to be nearby. I contacted him, and he arrived within thirty minutes. Twenty minutes after that, he had identified and replaced a faulty supply line under one of the sinks.
The leak arrested, he cleaned and mitigated the ceiling damage as best he could, and suggested we let it dry a few days before repairing and repainting.
When you own a house long enough, you anticipate unexpected travails, and suffer them with stoicism of deadened nerves.
In our current plight, we explored all angles and considered every option. We sat on the edge of our chair. Our head rested in our hands, elbows planted on our knees. We thought thru the implications of our pending decision, the ramifications of our next step. We realized we had no choice…and only one recourse.
We had to do it, so we did.
We uncorked our wine, filled our glass, and walked to the deck to begin Happy Hour.
We are not alone on our perch above the sea. Rabbits, black squirrels, and a raccoon pay call and keep periodic company. On Tuesday, a deer ambled onto the back yard. As our younger son approached, she scurried down the cliff. Upon reaching the beach, she turned south, and was gone. Within a few hours, the beach was too.
Before the waves consumed it, the narrowing beach attracted us for morning walks, evening strolls, and the occasional afternoon interlude during conjured breaks in my regular work schedule.
Three of our contingent were deranged enough to submerge themselves in the frigid water. To protect their identity, and out of respect for the one who chose or raised those idiots, we will not name the person wise enough to remain ashore. I’m sure she appreciates that as well.
With the beach gone, our attention shifted inland. We wandered along the unpaved roads and amid the rustic homes that are scattered across the suburbs of metropolitan Glenn. David and Alexander took advantage of a calm interlude in Wednesday’s weather to play basketball on the open court at the Glenn School.
Last night, we abandoned the grill and drove to South Haven for dinner. As long as we’ve been fortunate enough to come here, we’ve settled into routines. One is Mexican food at Su Casa. The place isn’t much, but the food is good, and the experience is now a fixture in our itinerary. And it never fails.
Anti-viral precaution had them open only for take-out, but they did allow dining on their outside deck. That sounded great under the clear skies and bright sun that warmed our arrival.
When the food came fifteen minutes later, the lake’s multiple personalities again asserted themselves. The wind rose and the temperature dropped. As clouds increased, so did our pace. We finished our food, gathered our wind-blown accoutrements, and hustled to the car.
Within minutes, the rain returned. Not the onslaught of the prior storms. This was a new mood…gentle, even soothing…a contemplative disposition that persisted an hour or so after we’d re-settled onto the back deck.
But it cleared before dusk, and made room for the star of every evening. As the last drops exited stage left, their accompanying clouds began to part, yielding the floor to the setting sun, which brought down its glorious curtain.
JD
