Hey y’all! Welcome
back to Flowers on the Fence Country.
Been a while since I’ve invited y’all over, busy press of day-to-day
life and all that. And besides, nothing
much has happened lately I thought might hold your interest enough to sit in my
cyberspace country kitchen and chat with me awhile over coffee.
But this is
the country, I’m a country girl living a country life, and there’s no way life’s
goin’ to run smoothly for any extended period of time. We were due for some country drama, haven’t
had any since putting in the new hot water heater put too much pressure on the
old pipe connections and rendered me without hot water for a night. Okay, two
nights. Because obviously nobody puts in
a new hot water heater unless the old one’s dead, right? But hey, no
problem. I’m an ol’ pro. Heat some water on the stove, run some cold water
in the bathtub, pour in the heated water, instant bath. Okay, you’re not goin’ to soak in luxurious
bubbles or sigh under a stream of steaming shower water but it gets you
clean. Anybody can do without hot water
for one night. Who knew the next night while
fixing the problem of no hot water, another pipe connection would break and we’d
have to shut off power to the well and thus have no water at all? A fun three days, but just a minor
inconvenience in the course of country living.
Now our household’s always been
non-conventional in lots of respects.
One of our non-conventional features is that hubby, being already
retired while I still brave the interstate into the big city every week day, is
Grandadddy Day Care. Resident Caretaker and
School Transport in Charge of our two young grandchildren for our daughter and
son-in-law. Their jobs have some non-conventional hours sometimes. Certainly
not the hours that fit commercial day care’s time schedule. (My daughter says
she knows how lucky she is to have him, and I know she thinks she does, but
never having not had “in-home
on-demand” day care and thus no basis of comparison, I don’t think she truly does.) Austin’s two months shy of 7 and Kinsley’s just hit six months.
And then came last Friday
night. One last downpour with winds and thunder and lightning from the Tropical
Storm that moved from the Gulf up the east coast this week. It was around 7:00 p.m. Austin and I lounged on my bed in front of my
bedroom tv/DVD watching “The Bee Movie” while he ate his supper, seein’ as how Kinsley was asleep on her blanket on the floor
in the living room. Kinsley, according to Granddaddy, been a bit of a prima donna
that day and a little hard to please. In
other words, “Do. Not. Wake. Her. Up.”
Suddenly the lights went out
and the television screen went blank. Well, that happens when it rains sometimes. Power goes out. In the country or the city. Usually it doesn’t stay out for very long. “Grandmama! What’s happened?!” It’s
disastrous for the modern American adult when power goes out. For an almost seven year old, it’s
catastrophic. No DVD player, no lights, no computer?! “It won’t be out long,
baby. We’re fine.”
So Grandmama and Austin grabbed
my “Book” (Austinese for Nook) and retired to the back porch for more light.
And more cool. It’s amazing how quickly
a house gets hot when the power goes out.
Even with all windows open.
Especially on a humid Georgia twilight. A six-month-old, on the other
hand, doesn’t really care about power per se one way or the other. What she cares about is – it’s hot!! This is unacceptable and any baby
lets you know it. Kinsley is no exception.
After about thirty, forty-five
minutes, hubby decides to check out the rest of our fair little crossroads town
to see if power’s out all over, or whether we’re the only poor souls so
affected. Which can happen easily
because as I’ve explained before and
explain again for any newcomer—we live in the woods. As in the middle of. Our house is smack dab in the middle of fifty
acres of woods, and our driveway is a half to three-quarter-mile long downward
slope of curves.
It’s rained a lot lately here
in middle Georgia. Like I said, that tropical storm in the Gulf. Saturated ground means tree roots loosen
up. Saturated pine needles mean the
trees are top heavy. One final late
evening downpour with wind and thunder and lightning? Well, that frequently means a tree will just
yell, “Enough! I surrender!” And crash over a power line. And when a tree falls
on the driveway it sorta has to be moved before anybody’s going anyplace.
This time? Yep. You know it. There’s a tree down at the
top of the driveway. Sure we can move
it. It’s happened before. A little elbow grease never hurt anybody. But a live power wire? Well, that’s a little
different. And this tree was rude enough to take the power line with it and
then lay on top of it. Except for the parts of the power line draped across the
metal farm gate fence at the top of the drive. The one we almost never close,
but the one that’s there, nonetheless.
The one that’s metal. Live power wires and metal are not a good
combination.
Austin, already disrupted by
the power outrage, is now in panic mode.
“Grandmama, my heart’s scared!
I’m never goin’ home!!”
“Baby, you’re fine. Granddaddy’s calling the power
company and they have to come shut off the power before we can get the tree out
of the way. They’ll be here as soon as they can.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Tonight?”
“I hope so, but you’re fine. What’s
the matter, you’ve never spent the night with Grandmama and Granddaddy before?”
All this to the background of
loud protest from Kinsley, who is edging towards getting hungry and is now
obviously both hot and bothered. Too hot and bothered to eat, in fact. Certainly
not inside, and certainly not in the heat of anybody’s arms. Granddaddy strapped her in her bouncy seat
and sat it on the front porch, leaning over to hold her bottle for her as she
ate. (Forget Grandmama here. She won’t eat for me. Or burp for me. Only thing I’m good for is changing diapers,
as far as she’s concerned.) So I made myself useful by reporting the situation to
the parents.
“I wanta talk to Mimi!”
(Austinese for Mama. To him, my daughter
is Mimi. She’s not Mama or Mommy, she’s Mimi. Don’t know why, she just always
has been.)
“Okay.”
“Mimi, my love? (My daughter’s
called Austin “my love” or “my heart” since birth. Consequently, it’s a bit unnerving to hear
their phone conversations sometimes. You
never expect to hear the phrase “my love” come out of a six year old’s mouth.) The
power’s out and my heart’s scared!! And it’s getting’ scareder by the minute!!”
Reassuring hug from Grandmama.
Soothing murmers from Mimi over the other end of the phone.
“So can you tell Daddy to get
his friends and come move the tree and come and get me?!”
Okay, kid, twist the knife a
little more. This is the child that goes
anywhere with us for any length of time without protest. With enthusiasm, in
fact. This is the kid that spent four
days with us just last month when we drove to the Great Lakes Naval Base for
our youngest son’s graduation from Naval Basic.
The kid who went through Chicago rush hour traffic on a Thursday
afternoon as I cringed scared to death in the passenger seat shouting, “This is
awesome! I love this city!” The kid who
charmed every stranger he met with “We came to see my Uncle Lee. We’re living
in a hotel now.” The kid who proclaimed
said hotel “Awesome!” and wished we could live there “forever”. The indoor pool might have had something to
do with that.
More soothing mutters from
Mimi. At least Kinsley was happy. Until those pesky mosquitos drove them off
the front porch. Granddaddy and Kinsley
retired to the bedroom. Not quietly. She
was tired and it wasn’t as hot as it was but it’s wasn’t as cool as she’d like
it to be. Austin and I played the apps
on my “Book” until he tired of them and then sat at the kitchen table with the
flashlight building Lincoln Log houses.
Well, he did, anyway. He’d gotten
me hooked on one of those damned apps. And finally, blessed quiet from the
bedroom. Kinsley’s asleep. This was interspersed with the occasional “Are
you sure we’re gonna be all right?” “Yes, baby.” “I’m never going home again!” “Yes, you are, baby, it’s fine.”
By this point you understand, I
didn’t even care if the power came back on during the night. Just get the damn
tree out of the way and the kids home and I’d be happy as a clam. I could do without electricity for the
night. But Austin’s heart was “gettin’
scareder by the minute!” And what was I gonna do when the “Book” lost its
battery charge, for heaven’s sake? Desperate, I texted Mimi and asked if the Sheriff’s
Office could exert some influence with Georgia Power and move us up on the list
of priorities. (My son-in-law’s a K-9
Deputy Sheriff.) She sent back, “Okay, but what can the Sheriff do? Georgia Power’s gotta handle the live wire!” I sent back, “I know but maybe they can give
us emergency status—deputy’s children stranded with mean uncaring grandparents
and so scared their hearts hurt!”
I don’t know if she actually
complied with that request or not, but at 9:30 p.m., she called.
“We’re at the gate with Georgia
Power. They’ve been here about half an
hour. The wire’s draped all over the
gate. They’re hooking it up and pulling it back up in the air now. Shouldn’t be
but another few minutes.”
“Mimi? I wanta talk to Mimi!!”
I handed the phone over and sank
back in relief. “Mimi, they’re never coming!! My heart’s really gettin’ scared! And it’s gettin’
scareder by the minute!”
“Baby, they’re here! It’ll just
be a few minutes and we’ll be down to get you!
Got you a surprise!”
“Surprise?” Perked ears. “What, what, what?”
“It’s at home. You’ll be home
in just a little bit. They’re working.”
“Okaaaaayyyyyy…..”
Loud noise from driveway. Headlights!!
A giant Georgia Power truck came down the hill, maneuvered and backed up—and
started back up the hill! Noooooooooo!!!!!!!!! Don’t
leave meeeee…………
“Grandmama, they left, they
left!! And the lights aren’t back on!!”
Then I realized, “They’re
checking the rest of the lines on the driveway, stupid.” (NO, that was not directed at Austin, I was talking to myself.)
Five minutes later—surge of
light. “Let there be light.” Truly
glorious words. Whirr of overhead
ceiling fans. Yes, yes, yes. Sound of incoming vehicle as parents came to collect children. Oh, glorious
reunion! Or not. It seemed to have lost urgency with Austin.
“Grandmama! Now we can watch
t.v.!”
Yes. Priorities here, please. It only took the sight of incoming headlights
to send him flying out the door, though.
And so ended the night when I was Trapped!!
A prisoner of electricity in my own
home. Our children and grandchildren
headed up the driveway. Hubby flipped on
the t.v. Only three innings into the Braves
game seein’ as how they were playing in L. A.
We settled onto the couch, twisted
the top of two bottles of beer and pulled open a bag of pork rinds. We’re country. Gotta celebrate the same way.
And until drama unfolds again
in Flowers on the Fence Country – take care and y’all come back now, hear?
