Reflections on the Tenth Week of Summer – City Mouse Country Mouse

    On what she called a “respite,” our friend Darlene embraced country life with a child-like zeal. She dropped her bags on the porch, drew in a huge gulp of air, and squealed, “It smells so clean. Can I take it home with me?” Her more practical request proved almost as difficult to grant. “I want to see the stars. They're pitiful in the city.”

    Wednesday I drove her up a dirt road to our friends' farm. The stated purpose, to deliver the zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers Spence had picked for Tom and Kathy, didn't fool anyone. Avid animal-gawkers, Darlene and I headed straight for the barn with the three alpacas. Because moving shadows made Angie, the nearly blind female, skittish, Kathy hugged Angie to Kathy's side so I could get photos and stroke soft alpaca fleece. Darlene oohed and aahed but stood close to the door in deference to her hay and fur allergies.

    In the rabbit barn, the squirming, two week old white bunny Kathy handed me let loose a stream of pee which just missed my camera and shoes. Darlene ignored her allergies, reached over, and petted a smaller gray bunny.

    We stepped around ruts and manure in search of the mini donkeys. Kathy opened the gate to let me into the cow pasture for a better angle into the horse pasture. Darlene stared at the towering llama grazing with the cows and said, “I'll wait for you here.” Ears flicked, tails wagged, and eyes followed my camera. “Watch out, Janet.” Darlene chuckled. “The llama's creeping up on you.”

    By the time the donkeys finally stopped eating hay and wandered our direction, my camera battery died. Then the sun set behind clouds lining the hilltop horizon. No star gazing for Darlene on her first country night.

Thursday Darlene and I peeled apples, defrosted strawberries, and chopped chicken. We cooked strawberry applesauce, made two of my great aunt's strawberry pies, and baked a chicken pot pie for dinner. Darlene let the food linger on her tongue. “Mm. Mmmm. You took time to make all this from scratch and half of it's from your garden.”

    The clop clop of an Amish horse pulling a buggy past the house made Darlene giggle. “Wow!”

    Night fell with rumbling thunder. Darlene sat in the dark on the porch and absorbed the calm. Rain pattered, crickets chirped, and tree frogs croaked. No star gazing for Darlene on her second country night.

    Friday Spence drove us to Presque Isle for a walk along Misery Bay. Darlene said, “We're passing different smells.” Indeed–musky swamp, decaying fish, and sweet honeysuckle. She looked overhead and said, “The wind sounds different through different trees.” She was right again. Cotton wood leaves crackled, and white pines swished. Though the sun set behind clouds on the horizon during the ride home, Darlene and I fanny danced to Carlos Santa and hoped for clearing overhead.

    Back at Wells Wood, the cats yawned a welcome. Spence turned off house and garage lights. Darlene and I stepped onto the deck. Above the south garden, burning asteroid dust streaked under myriads of stars. “Awesome,” Darlene said. We crossed the porch to the driveway side of the house where the Big Dipper outshone all the others. “Amazing. I love it,” she said. We linked arms for the dark walk over the uneven gravel driveway to the road. The Milky Way ran like a river above the log house. “It's a bit of heaven. I feel like a kid again.” she said.

    Unlike Aesop's City Mouse visiting the Country Mouse, Darlene said, “I'll be back.”