Thursday, August 6, 2015

STINKING RAIN!

This post has nothing to do with damselflies. Except that yesterday, as I cut and shaped pieces of dimensional lumber for my latest cottage remodeling project, dozens of iridescent damselflies, such as the ebony jewelwing (above) plus various species of dancers, bluets, forktails, and slenderwings—in a host of breathtaking colors—zipped around, sometimes pausing for a quick rest on the sawhorses, energized by the bright sunlight's summery heat.

Today it feels like another season. Even now, at 2:00 p.m., the day's high is still a ridiculously chilly 62˚F! That's at least 25 degrees below the usual expectations for this time of year in southwest Ohio. Flat too cold for August hereabouts! Nor is there much hope temperatures will rise more than a degree or two between now and nightfall—and tonight it's predicted the low will dip into the mid-50s˚F.  

If this wasn't bad enough, it's been raining since before dawn. A steady drizzle that occasionally increases to a near downpour. And of course the sky is low—a dim, dark charcoal gray the shade of dirty wool.  

As you might surmise, there are no vividly hued damselflies zipping around! 

Moreover, I can't work on my latest carpentry project because, lacking a garage or other dry interior space, I have to wait for better weather before I can set up shop in the yard. So in spite of being all energized for a day's work, I'm instead forced to quashed my plans. A rained-out, froze-out, time-out.          

Last night, just before we turned off the TV and headed to bed, Myladylove sat bolt upright, sniffed, then wrinkled her nose. 

"Ugghh!" she said, giving me an annoyed glance. "What's that awful smell?"

Myladylove has the olfactory sensitivity of a bloodhound. I'm not exaggerating when I say she's phenomenal at detecting and discerning scents. I've never met another human being with even half her nose prowess. 

While my own scenting capabilities didn't approached her level, I used to be above average at sniffing things out. But a couple of months ago, when I first got sick and went on my initial round of medications, my trusty sense of smell mostly vanished. It has yet to return. Currently, I can crush a handful of peppermint leaves, hold them against my nose, and barely catch a whiff of their strong scent. The same goes for mentholated rub, aftershave, woodsmoke…and, apparently, skunk. 

"Dunno," I said, with an ineffective shrug. "I can't smell anything."     
She shot me another irritated look, sniffed again, then answered her own question: "Skunk!"

At which point she sprang up and hastily closed the screen where the offending musky smell was flooding through—drawn in by the big window-mounted fan on the opposite side of the room that busily pushes air out. Her actions were accompanied by overly-dramatic sounds of gagging, retching, and imminent asphyxiation.

I had more sense than to rise to that particular ploy. No use getting blamed for the behavior of a stinky skunk. It's against my nature, but I've learned when to remain silent. A savvy survival instinct. 

But I should have paid better attention to the omen-bearing skunk, even if I couldn't smell it. I do believe the critter was delivering a malodorous prophecy…for today has been a real stinker!        

8 comments:

KGMom said...

Oh, Scribe--send the rain our way. Here in central PA, it is dry dry dry. No rain for a long time--oh, except for snitzy rain showers where a few spats land and promptly dry up.
Tree leaves are drooping, hanging in defeat. Grass is crunchy. Flowers are bereft.
So, shoo that rain away from you and make sure it heads due east and a touch north.

Gail said...

Hi Grizz - oh how I lov the way you blend nature and daily life so well - even when it is to your disappointment as in chilly drizzle and the stink of a skunk, even if your LadyLove was the only one aware. Yes, your silence was a good choice. :-) I love that you are planning projects and that the only think holding you back is the weather and not illness. Amen.
Love Gail
peace.....

Grizz………… said...

KGMom…

I'd gladly send our rain your way…if only I could! It rained. drizzled, showered all day. Never really ceased until this evening. Today has been a real bust for me and my big get'r done plans. So I'm exceedingly bummed. But tomorrow looks to be sunny and, I hope, warmer. I intend to make good and welcome use. And maybe our rains will continue east to water your parched landscape.

Grizz………… said...

Gail…

Kidding around aside, I'm really, really glad, too, that I can be hacked off about having weather—and not illness—mess with my work plans. That wouldn't have been the case a couple of weeks back. I'm very grateful to be in the shape, healthwise, I am now. Skunks, cold temps (still just 62˚F here) and my inability to smell are mere inconveniences, temporary bumps in the road. Being able to grumble about them is priceless.

Gail said...

hi again-

indeed, so grumble away hallaleujah!!
love gail
peace.....

Grizz………… said...

Gail...

Don't worry, I love a good grumble! It's therapeutic, at least for me.

Scott said...

Though we're only a few hundred miles from you, we're very warm and very dry. We'd like some of that rain and cooler temperatures in the northern Piedmont. Our wild ginger plants are all wilted in the woods, and my creek is as low as I've ever seen it. Our spring precipitation surfeit has completely disappeared.

I almost hate to admit this, but I find the skunk's musk sort of appealing. The scent wafting in on the night breeze would actually be a pleasant experience for me. I do have to draw a line, though. I don't think I'd like to get sprayed, and we once had a skunk get stuck in a shallow basement window-well and die, and the odor permeated the basement for weeks. (The window-well was shallow enough for a healthy skunk to get out; it must have been sick when it fell in.)

Grizz………… said...

Scott…

At least one day last week set the all-time record as the lowest high temp for the date. Others came within a degree or two. Several recent mornings I've gotten up to find temps in the mid-50s˚F. July was cool-to-cold. And lots of rain. As was June…chilly, wet. This is just a cool and wet summer hereabouts. But isn't it interesting how that relatively short distance between our homes can see such a real weather difference?

I actually share your, um, partiality to the wafting scent of skunk. And more than one friend or acquaintance has looked askance at me when I admitted that fact. But only light dosing of the musk on the air—not the overpowering odor deluge you get at close quarters. I've never been sprayed, but I've been close to skunks who've just released their scent. And actually, it's not only many times stronger, but there are elements at that distance which—for me anyway—seem to change the scent entirely. A sort of "heat" component, plus it's much more acrid, rather like a strong fire and smoke scent of burning rubber and wood. Not at all pleasant! One detail I left out from my post was that the skunk Myladylove sniffed was likely under our deck—in other words, a couple of feet from the open window through which the big fan was sucking air into the cottage. Like I said, I couldn't smell a thing—but that was probably a blessing.