Early this morning, snorting payback steam out my nostrils and sporting an oversize pie tin and huge soup ladle, I headed out the front door to wreak havoc upon my neighborhood. I opened the door and a huge blast of frosty air hit me like a bucket of ice water thrown in the face of a punch drunk boxer.
Sure, it would have been sweet to pay back the blasted fireworks blasters who traumatized the neighborhood and thus my poor little doggie last night. It would have been wonderful to see each one, blinded by fear, run behind the computer work station and get hopelessly tangled in wires and surge protectors. I would have reveled in the sight of a freaked-out carouser trying to dig his way out of the back end of his crate as his best friend tried without success to sooth his fear.
Clad in nightgown and robe, wool socks and Berks, I stood there for about a second and a half before I slammed the door shut. It was damned cold out there.
Calm and serene this morning, the doggie showed no ill effects of her recent trauma.
And if I did run up and down the street yelling and banging my pie tin, what, besides frostbite, would be the result. I’ll tell you what — next July, my lovely neighbors would buy more fireworks than ever.
Definitely not a desired outcome.
Instead of spreading anger and indignation, I forced myself to turn my attention dial forward into 2015. With recent heavy rains, the woods will be busily preparing for spring. Soon, if we hike up the steep hillside trail in Sequoia Park, we will see what Mother used to call woods orchids in the duff beneath the trees. And the trillium, or wake robin, (liliaceae) will begin to bloom sometime in February, and then it will be spring. And soon after, it will be the 4th of July! And then New Year’s Eve again! Aaaaagh!
Oops, I’m not going to go there. Instead, I wish you a very Happy New Year. May 2015 be a best year ever!