LIFE ON THE PORCH, continued

Wow, today is 9/11. Kind of gave me the chills when I realized that. Hard to believe four years have passed since that day. And what have we accomplished in our war on terrorism? Not much, I'm sad to say.

It feels absolutely delicious out here on the porch this morning. When I first came out, about an hour ago, it was still quite dark, with such a solid cloud cover that no stars were visible. Although I couldn't see individual streaks of lightning, it was as if there was a strobe light show pulsating behind the clouds. The rooster was crowing steadily at first, but suddenly he stopped. That's when I realized there was a constant whooshing sound some distance away, that was growing steadily louder, as if it were coming towards me. Could it be? Woo Hoo! It's actually raining! Too bad the strong rain only lasted a few minutes, to be followed by a light drizzle off and on. But beggars can't be choosers. It's finally light out, but the cloud cover is pretty solid, with a layer of fog tucked down in all the crevices between the hills, just like a blanket. The breeze is the most wonderful thing I've felt in months.

We had two hummingbird feeders hanging on the front of the porch, but one lone bird was hogging them both, and wouldn't allow anyone else near them. We decided to move one of the feeders around the corner, and John sort of hid it behind a column, out of sight from the other feeder. At first, no one at all was using it, but moments ago a little hummer discovered it. I was just about to congratulate myself for outmaneuvering Mr. Selfish, when suddenly he appeared out of nowhere and dive-bombed the poor newcomer, scaring him away. Oh well, at least we tried.

We had another front-porch-feast yesterday. Originally some friends from Houston were going to be our house-guests this weekend, but they had to cancel at the last minute. That left us with just two local couples that we barely knew, so I was a little nervous. John and I are both on the shy side with strangers, but we handle it in totally opposite ways. He gets very quiet and hardly opens his mouth all evening. I turn into Chatty Cathy, and talk enough for both of us, for fear there might be one of those dreaded voids in the conversation. That's why I usually like to have at least one couple at the table that are somewhat verbose. I needn't have worried though, because everyone in this group was very sociable, and very interesting. Wimberley just seems to attract interesting people, with great stories to tell. The problem with having spent so many years socializing with the same old people (oil people move around a lot, but keep running into the same people wherever they go!), is that although you are comfortable with them, you tend to hear the same old stuff over and over again. The neat thing about my plan for these feasts is that I'm constantly adding new names to the invitation list as we meet more people here, as well as keeping all our old friends on the list. Different ones show up at each feast, and in different combinations, so it's never the same ol' same ol'. The only thing that upsets me is that we never got to bring John's mother Theda here. She would truly have been in her element! She would have just thrived here amongst all these artists and eccentrics, and would have had such a blast at our feasts, holding court with all these interesting people.

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Well, I survived another summer, and John is just going to crack up when he comes out here and sees me. I've been complaining about the heat for so long - couldn't wait for it to cool down. Yesterday (10/6) we finally got our first cool front of the year, and what am I doing? Sitting on the porch wearing a coat, gloves and ear warmers, and still I'm shivering - and it's probably only in the 50's! What a wimp. Can't help it though. When you've spent the past five or six months in the breezeless, sultry, mosquito-infested upper nineties of Houston, this nippy breeze is quite a contrast. I'm not complaining though, for it invigorates me like nothing else. All summer I haven't had the slightest inclination to start on any of our projects around here, but now I can't wait to go on my morning walk and see what's happening around the place, then come back and do some painting or gardening or something.

John bought a big old bag of birdseed recently, and stashed it out in the carport. The next evening we walked out the back door, and our entire garage and driveway were just full of deer. Apparently a few had managed to knock the bag down and tear it open, then, just like a teenager's party with illicit beer, word somehow spread throughout the deer community. There was a party going on, and we were definitely the crashers! John went out the next week and bought some seed in a tightly sealed, hard plastic tub, and this time he stored it on our lower porch, which is completely fenced in except for a small opening at one end where the steps are. The following week, when we were back in Houston, we got a call from our daughter Alexis. She said a raccoon had found the tub and managed to get the lid off, then scattered about half the seed on the porch (who would have thunk?). She ran him off, and sealed it back up again. The next morning she opened her bedroom door, and was about to step out on the porch, when "what to her wondering eyes did appear?" A porch full of deer, and one was staring her right in the face. The rest of them scattered immediately, but he just stood there staring at her for a moment, then actually snorted in her face, before turning and sauntering away. She didn't admit to this, but I bet she almost wet her pants! We now store the birdseed indoors.