My World

Anytime after Thanksgiving all bets are off on whether or not we will have snow on the mountain. It can be raining 6 miles away in Town Center, and snowing to beat the band up here. In fact, most people do not visit me until Easter or if they do, they bring their jammies. (I keep the guest room ready at all times.) I hate winter, but I have to say it is beautiful on the mountain in the snow. This road borders one side of my property.

Yellow Gate

On the road down the mountain in the middle of a narrow blind S curve there is a small yellow gate. I drive past it at least twice a day. It intrigues me. It is never open. It has 2 cement steps leading to it and beyond it a path towards a house. The front door of the house matches the gate. No one comes or goes from that house. Yet it is not abandoned or even very old. Why would they have put a gate in the middle of an S curve that cannot possibly be used?

I have stopped my car many times in the middle of the curve (keeping one eye out for cars) and photographed the gate. The shots are clear, crisp, perfectly composed and bad everytime. It has gotten to the point that I slip into the S, roll down the window, snap a few shots and drive on. I do it regularly-both coming and going. There is no reason for this gate to not be photogenic. I don’t get it. It is not ugly. It is like those people that always blink in pictures or turn their faces away.

In the spring the gate and the Forsythia hedge are TOO garish. In the summer the gate shouts out its strident color from the tall green arching branches of the Forsythia. It is not a meek mild-mannered quiet sort of gate. But one that demands attention every time you go into the S. It is almost like a flashing yellow caution light. Perhaps that is why it is bright sunshine yellow. You cannot miss it.

One morning after a winter storm I slipped into the S curve. The gate was surrounded and covered in fresh snow. It looked subdued in the gray winter light. I rolled down the window and snapped a few shots as usual. That night when I got home I discovered I finally had a good shot. Several days later when the snow melted a little, the gate was back to its unattractive self.

An Accident Waiting to Happen

As I came around the curve of the road I saw a van pulled over to the side with its flashers on. In the same instant I noticed a small black Toto-like dog in the on-coming lane. The dog was looking confused, glancing around, taking a step forward then a step back. I assumed the dog was lost and the people in the van had been looking for him. I stopped the car in my lane expecting the van door to open and the dog to run in front of me.

As soon as I stopped the dog came toward my car. I waited. The van took off. The cars were now lining up behind me. I put on my flashers and hopped out-still in the middle of my lane. The cars started to go around me on the berm. The dog had tags. I bent down to read them. There was a name and local phone number. The rabies tag, however, was from a city 3 hours away. Yikes.

The dog tried to jump into my car; I reached down the boosted him up. He knew all about cars and had obviously been in one many times. I got back in and pulled off to the side of the road. I looked in my rear-view and saw a large truck had been protecting my back.

Traffic was now flowing steadily in both directions. I waved as the truck went by. I called the number on the tag. A man answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“I think I have your dog.”

“Gus?” “You have…Gus? “ The voice sounded perplexed.

“Honey where is Gus?” There came a mumble through the phone that sounded like porch.

“Where are you?”

I looked around. “I am across the street from Lundgren’s Landscaping.”

“That’s me.” The voice continued, “I’ll be right down.”

I waited in the car, petting the dog and talking to him. Finally a wiry man in grass-stained jeans came down the long drive. Gus saw him and started to wag not only his tail, but his whole back end. I shouted across the street.

“He knows you.”

Traffic was heavy in both directions. The man waited to cross. I watched the traffic in my mirrors. Many minutes passed. Finally there was a break in the traffic and the man approached the car. I opened the door. Gus leapt into the man’s arms.

“Wow,” the man said, “there is a lot of traffic.”

“Your dog was in the middle of the road.” “He could have been hit.”

“Thank you, thank you, how can I thank you?”

He walked back across the street with Gus licking his face.

The moral here is: Please, watch your dog, I don’t want to have to call you.

Wordless Wednesday

Stop the Car!