Dancers and Heroines

Running in the storm when the trees are rocking and reeling brings as good a feeling as when the weather is balmy and calm. But I’m aware that part of that feeling is derived from knowing I have a safe, warm house to return to. I also know that it might not always be safe and warm, just as I know that I won’t always be here, whatever may come.

This time, back from the farm, we remember. Three apple varieties: Pixie Crunch, Snapdragon, and Ruby Frost — dancers, heroines of pulp fiction.

Read The Rambler, Numb. 11. Tuesday, April 24, 1750. Be master of thy anger.

Afternoon. Enjoying the storm, with the indoor advantage of a small lamp or two and shelves and shelves of old books. For a time, the room is as dark as dusk; then bright sunlight flashes at the big window, signifying a break in the fast-moving clouds. It holds for a while, long enough for the hungriest spiders to resume their battered webs — and then longer still, long enough for a walk of over a mile, down the hill past the woodcutter’s house and for a chat of several minutes with him, mostly about his woodpile. Nearing eighty-seven, it seems he’s slowed a bit in mind and body since our last talk. But he’s just as happy and friendly as ever. Of his nearest neighbor, he said with an amused smile, “He’s just about the laziest son of a bitch that ever was,” with enough volume that if the young man in question had been outside behind his fence, he would have heard it clearly. “Well,” I said, lowering my voice, “it takes all kinds,” and, after a brief pause, “I see he has some nice apples there by the fence.” This reminded him of something else: “They have four ducks back there. But you’d never know it, because they don’t make any noise.” All of this as two walls of gray approached, one from the southwest, the other from the east, on a rapid collision course, which I pointed out, saying I’d better leave now or get soaked. And so we said our good-byes, during which he invited me to stop by again anytime, and said to say hello to my wife.

October 11, 2023.

[ 1894 ]