Pets - grace grits and gardening

same moon

August 30, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Last night, sleep was difficult. The wild sounds of nature filled our little cottage. Not sure what exactly – tree frogs, crickets, birds, owls, werewolves…. With only a flimsy screen door separating me from unseen critters, I pretended to be camping, in style…

I imagine the sounds to be those of the late night zoo. Or the deep jungle plus exuberant schnauzers minus howler monkeys.

No air conditioner noise, no traffic, no sirens or airplanes, no sounds of Dallas. Only nature. The twinkle of stars. The rustle of leaves turning.

Lucy and Annabelle were wide-eyed and excited. In and out, in and out. Up and down off the bed.

The moon, almost full, cast shadows to go with the sounds. A grain moon or sturgeon moon according to Farmer’s Almanac. Stirring the dirt and crops, rousing the nocturnal creatures a bit more? The trees were luminous.

I thought of family and friends. Each resting under a different roof. Across the country or across town, but under the same sky. Same moon.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Somewhere Out There, Linda Ronstadt & James Ingram

It suddenly struck me, that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn’t feel like a giant. I felt very, very small. – Neil Armstrong

La Casa Pintada

August 26, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

For five consecutive days I have been showering with a strange hombre hanging outside my bathroom window. Although there is a thin shade drawn between us, perhaps we are no longer strangers. But star-crossed most definitely. We do not speak the same language.

Like a circus performer, he balances on an aluminum extension ladder two stories up, sanding and scraping and calking and hammering, always timing his work projects to appear in that spot just as I begin shampooing my hair. Maybe that corner of the house has the best early morning sunlight?

Unnerving at first, barely noticeable now.

Finally, after the spring hail storm, the installation of our new roof is complete. But still the workers cling to the walls and scale the columns like superheroes, prepping the outside for paint. Second nature to them, breathing. The constant noise and commotion bores into my brain. I can’t concentrate. A fine layer of sawdust floats on the surface of the pool.

Lucy y Annabelle son muy locos.

For two days, they power washed the outside. Every window leaked…. Seems blow flies don’t like water. They’ve migrated on to dryer, sunnier windowsills….

At high noon the men lounge in the driveway, lunching and enjoying a brief siesta. Recharging.

All afternoon Latino music blares, blends with the grinding music of the electric sander, filling the air around our home, down our block, reverberating into all of East Dallas. A painting party. A week long fiesta.

Suddenly I crave a margarita.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Tequila – The Champs

Methinks I see thee.- William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

The Horror Within

August 17, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

For about 5 minutes this morning, I wasn’t sure what my next blog post would be. Dreaded Writer’s Block…? What if I never had another inspired thought?

Still half asleep, I contemplated this terrible notion while plodding downstairs to let the dogs out. But ideas reveal themselves. There in my kitchen, lit only by the glow of breaking dawn, swarmed my next story. Delivered straight from Mystery Science Theater.

It was too early for a Miller Lite.

While I slept my home had become freakishly overtaken by HUGE flies. Flies the size of bumble bees. They congregated in my kitchen window and crawled underneath the partially lowered window shade, their silhouettes exaggerated like large hairy spiders. It was waaaaaay too early for such a bizarre scene.

I know what you are thinking. And NO, my house is clean. I’m a bit of a clean freak. The opposite of a hoarder. There was nothing immediately obvious to attract these alien flies. No dirty dishes, no smelly trash, no decaying bodies.

Horror is often unexplained.

Big as a penny flies!

I swatted twenty-two flies in the kitchen before downing my first cup of not-strong-enough black coffee. Nine more latched on to the back door glass. What brought this about??

A Dallas City Hall mosquito-spraying experiment gone bad? The beginning of the Rapture? Amityville?

Halloween is a huge deal in Munger Place – the entire neighborhood goes overboard with decorations and parties and candy, setting aside grocery money for the occasion. Had the flies attacked two months from now, I would have embraced these otherworldly and free decorations… But not mid-August.

I eliminated as many as I could and went to yoga class to namaste it away. Just breathe….

Upon my return, the monsters had multiplied like a sick virus, covering every downstairs window. Kitchen, Living Room, Dining Room, Stair Landing. My life had evolved into a 1960’s sci-fi movie, a cross between The Birds and The Fly.

For an hour I swatted the windows, splattering these huge flies, leaving blurry bacteria smears on the glass and dead carcasses on the floor. They were oddly slow moving, I killed two and three at a time. After washing every window with a vinegar cleaner and vacuuming up the casualties, I was panicked to discover the first window I eradicated was completely possessed again.

Meanwhile, this entire horror episode did not set well with sweet, sensitive Annabelle. She was traumatized and trembling, disturbed by the noisy fly swatter and my near hysteria. She went outside and only reluctantly came back. To pack her bag. I think she’s moving.

Dogs are smart.