October 31, 2024

My flock of three turkeys visits every afternoon at about 3:30. They favor one certain area, whether because of a statue of Saint Francis, or because open dirt feels good on their bellies, or because a path of sage delights their senses. 

Another day without Internet. It flickers on sometimes, and then one receives joyful tidings from Spectrum, but flickers off again within an hour. Every ten minutes or so I have to stop myself from screaming with rage. Not good for the throat.  Discovered that part of the delay– multiplying the firm’s established incompetence–is that the linemen had not been paid for their work. They staged a work stoppage for two days, delaying everything. When I learned this my rage turned, momentarily, to solidarity. I was glad some principles remained. 

Huge gardening day. Joyful discovery that the autumn crocus, planted after the hurricane, are in purple bloom. New beds dug against the street, wherein were entombed daffodil, black iris. Much mulching, all the bags on, requiring me to renew. Internet, in the few moments when I have it, reports that more shipments will arrive. I must have thought I needed to replant the world. 

Hard time getting to rehearsal in Arden last night. Sweeten Creek Road no longer connects with Biltmore. G said that more roads– those already in bad shape before the storm–in the County are being closed than being opened. Drove home through the dark of Biltmore. Some Halloween activity downtown, good to see. Two cops in their dark uniforms jay-walked across Biltmore. Only a sudden gleam from their badges allowed me to see them in time.