Dozer, the bulldog

Dozer, the bulldog
Dozer: Spring training is upon us!

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...

Backstage at Reggae on the River, 2017...
The author of Mark's Work

Hollyhocks

Hollyhocks
Why I grow flowers

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.

HappyDay Farms bees are happy bees.
Air-borne bees

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast

HeadSodBuster and BossLady at the coast
Love is the greatest power.

Beauty abounds!

Beauty abounds!
Crossing the Eel River at French's Camp

If you've seen one butterfly, you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.

If you've seen one butterfly,  you've seen 'em all, said no one ever.
Butter in the fly...

July Jewels

July Jewels
Bees to the Kingdom

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017

My souvenir from Reggae on the River, 2017
Something I have always wanted...

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Saturday, June 16, 2012

(20) You Call it Bipolar-I Call it MSD: They Call the Wind Annoying


You Call it Bipolar-I Call it MSD
They Call the Wind Annoying
The wind started blowing around a week or so ago.  Have you noticed?  Some of us notice more than others.  When it isn’t blowing, it’s howling.  I am in the most extended period of normalcy I have experienced since prior to last summer.  I am getting the good sleep each 24-hour period, and my legs are as strong as they have been in a year.  But it’s that doggoned wind that I want to talk about this morning.
There was a spate of fires yesterday, sending crews out in all directions, the same crews criss-crossing Mendo County, in order to cover them all.  It’s not surprising when you consider that the heat plus the wind, makes for a volatile combination.  As our favorite local radio weatherman likes to intone, “The low pressure will mix with high pressure, and kick up the pressure gradients, and that will bring about the wind.”  
Around here, we call the wind “annoying.”  It takes its toll on the garden; it creates havoc on the deck, knock pots and knick-knacks off the railing, and it knocks Mr. Crips’s dish under the steps, so I have to go a-hunting.  Lately, it has created havoc with my efforts to keep the lumber covered with a tarp, so that the wind and sun do not cause it to dry and warp, before we use it to build the addition to the workshop.
It goes without saying that I would take rudimentary precautions to protect the fir.  Unfortunately, rudimentary does not cut it in this wind.  The tarp with which I carefully covered the wood, including placing a chunk of four by four redwood on top of it, was meandering down the driveway, when I overtook it and returned it to its rightful spot, atop my pile of fir.  I added a ten-feet-long piece of corrugated metal, ready to get placed on the top of the chicken coop, to the pile, on top of the tarp, and then put the chunk of four-by-four on top of that.
The next morning I came out to find the tarp again traipsing down the avenue, the sheet of corrugated metal and the four by four redwood cast to one side, and I said, wtf, (Whoa, there friend).  I gathered up my scattered wits, and the tarp, and prepared to do it right.  Fighting the wind, every step of the way, I replaced the tarp, tucking the ends under the fir, as well as possible, and put the metal sheet back with the four by four redwood on top of it.  I walked over to my stack of scrap wood and added another redwood post, a chunk of two by six, and just for ood measure, my skill saw.  That ought to do it, I thought.
The next morning I came out to find the tarp again off the stack, and actually missing in action, later turning up in the creek bed. Now I was seeing all shades of red, as I scrambled down the bank of the creek bed, to retrieve the recalcitrant tarp.  I stormed back up the side of the bank, flailing wildly as I got tripped up by a wandering root, and ended up in a heap, carefully cushioned by the crumpled up tarp, i was clutching out in front of me.
I did not even slow down until tarp, redwood posts, various chunks of this and that and my skill saw, were all in place on top of the tarp.  With an air of finality, and more than a slice of bipolar pie, I stalked over to another pile of materials, and reached down and manhandled an unopened bag of Readi-Mix concrete, over to the pile, where I unceremoniously deposited it on top of all that was already there.  If that doesn’t do it, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.
The next morning, when I strolled out to the site, the first thing I saw on the ground beside the stack, was that sack of concrete.  The tarp was nowhere to be seen.  We call the wind annoying, but it doesn’t seem to care.

5 comments:

  1. I hate this wind. Something about it really irritates me. Stephen's house in Woodman Canyon nearly got burned down the other afternoon, from a fast moving wildfire, fanned by the wind! As the old man used to call it, damn that everlasting wind!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am quite fond of a soft breeze but real wind is uber annoying. At school, it tend to rile kids up and that makes my job hard. At home it stirs up the pollen and that makes my head hurt. I hate it when it pushes from the front when I ride my bike -- make the ride miserable. and I hate it when I get over to the coast only to have the wind blowing so hard that you can't enjoy the ocean. Oh, and did I mention that I hate it when the heavy wind at the end of the day means that the fog will be in the next morning? Tell the wind to calm down.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Just trying to get caught up here, Mark. And I have to say--that is one determined wind or tarp or man. Or all three.

    PS--I also love your redefining of that familiar acronym (wtf). So much more "civilized" than the alternative. ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hey there, do you remember one of the first pieces of mine you ever read, I used "wanton turtles frolic?" Nice to see you, my original blogging mentor.

      Delete
    2. Happy to be back. And I had forgotten that one but it all came flooding back as soon as you mentioned it. That was an excellent one as well.

      Delete