Monday, March 23, 2015

Where Have All the Mooses Gone

Caretaker’s Log, Friday, March 20, 2015

I take my time with the coffee and my other morning things. It's ten o'clock before I go and start up the generator. I almost used up all the power.

I sit on the porch in the morning sun and listen to the birds. Woodpeckers? Crows for sure. The cat loves this. She starts to get feisty and I have to tsk tsk her when she plays too rough.

I eat granola for breakfast.

It's a lovely day.

I take my book out and read with the warmth of the sun pressing on me through my coat.

I take out the trash, bag up the recycling, bag up the stove ash, and put it all in the incinerator shed. I burn the burnable trash.

I make salmon and rice for lunch.

I research some weather info for my book.

I finish the sixth book in the Martin Beck series. In between paragraphs I doze a bit.

It's a lazy day.

I turn the generator off at four o'clock. I'm all powered up.

At seven o'clock, I do the walk around. There's an owl somewhere nearby.

For dinner, I eat the Romaine salad pack that Todd brought me with the vine ripened tomatoes and half an avocado. While I eat I read through one of the National Geographics.

I write.

Phinehas calls.

By this time it's late. For the millionth time, I save my document and then head up to bed.

Caretaker’s Log, Saturday, March 21, 2015

I wake up feeling more or less rested. This doesn't happen very often.

The three geese are out. The woodpecker is knocking on wood. The cat wants to play.

I eat apples with tahini for breakfast.

Porgy calls. He may visit tomorrow to get some last-minute bridge measurements. Or he may not. The road conditions are starting to become unreliable especially for snowmobiles.

About 11:30, I put ski boots on and ski up the road to the big gate. I haven't been up that far in a while. I'm there in thirty-eight minutes. I'm down in fourteen. I fly down, tucking the ski poles under my arms and leaning into the hill.

Then I chop three sledfuls of wood. I’d gotten down to about a six-day supply. Now there's maybe two weeks’ worth. I don't have the energy to chop more than that.

I eat the last of the quinoa for lunch.

I call my grandmother.

I take a bath. Wash my hair.

I make a loaf of banana bread using the gluten-free flour mix.

I wash up the day's dishes.

I write.

The oven runs hot and I over bake the banana bread. Blast it all.

I eat three scrambled eggs and a piece of slightly burned banana bread for dinner. I read while I eat.

I record the weather. The cat and I do the nightly walk around. Battery level is at 35%. Snow depth down to 17 inches.

I write a little more.

Loring calls to see if Porgy has visited. I tell him maybe tomorrow. Loring may come out with Dave, an electrical engineer (among other things), to try and fix the Wild Hydro sometime next week if the snow holds.

I write. I watch a show. Drink my wine. Run the water through the pipes to keep things from freezing overnight. Say good night to everything and go up to bed.

Caretaker’s Log, Sunday, March 22, 2015

Porgy might show up early. He also might not. I wake up at 6:47 and then doze lightly until just before eight when I get up. On the off chance that he does come by, I get to the computer early. I write after I've heated up my coffee, worked the crossword puzzle, gotten a fire going, given fresh water to the cat, watered the plants, had some granola, and started the generator charge.

Loring calls to say Porgy plans to come tomorrow and to see if I know of Dave’s plans to come out. All I know is that he's not coming on Monday because he has a meeting. Loring and I promise to keep each other in the loop. I tell him I'm not going anywhere, not for a while, so I'll be around if anyone shows up.

I write for a few hours.

Michaela calls. She’s seen a whole pod of killer whales.

I cut up a head of cauliflower and decorate it with olive oil and spices and nutritional yeast and agave nectar. I eat about half of it for lunch. I read for a little bit.

I write some more.

After the generator charge is done, I go ski across the field and up the hill a ways. Then back down. Up again. Then down. Up again. Down. Up one more time. Then down and back to the lodge. I needed to move, to stretch my legs. Thirty minutes isn't much, but it's something.

I haven't seen a moose for days. I miss them. All of them. I think the wolves drove them away. Or better eating somewhere else enticed them to move on from this little valley.

For a late afternoon snack, I eat two pieces of banana bread. It's not as great as I imagined it would be. I don't think I'll make it again. And if I do I won’t over bake it.

I sit on the porch with the cat. After a moment, I go inside and bring out my book and a short glass of rum and apple juice. The cat falls asleep in my lap.

It's cloudy and there's a wind coming in from the north. I get chilled and go inside.

I sweep up. As I bring the broom into the living room and glance up out the window, I see the fearless, incorrigible, and bold mouse sitting on the cat’s blanket with a piece of cat food in its little paws. It stares at me with a wide-eyed, hand in the cookie jar look and then darts away before I can get a picture.

I wash the dishes while I cook rice. Call my grandmother while the salmon broils.

As I’m finishing up my dinner, I hear a coyote yipping. I'm outside in time to hear an owl asking its nightly question. The geese are protesting somewhere in the northeast part of the reeds and river. A distant sound I don't recognize, a bird? A frog? I haven't heard the sound of a frog in a long, long time.

The sunset is tangerine and orange and melon.

That’s the end of the day. Goodnight.

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