Friday, February 27, 2009

Will there be light?

This may be a big weekend. The installation of all the doodads and whatchamacallits down in the hydro-house situated on the Rio Desague. (She rubs her hands and suppresses a giggle)

I spent three entire days at our place in Sector Azul. Alone. Candles, good cross pen, paper, some beer and half-finished projects everywhere. In those three days I sealed the wood posts on the back porch, on the front porch, I finished scraping varnish drips off of 12 window panes. I picked at my broken guitar in an attempt to get Red Crows rendition of "Quiet Desperation" out of my head and only succeeded in replacing it with the Kris Kristopherson song, "My God they Killed Him". I posed a troll figurine with a mate cup and took a picture. I cut up vegetables to dry on racks in the sun. And I wrote off and on from 6 a.m. until midnight and when I wasn't dripping wood sealer on my head or dragging down a load of gravel from the road.

The river sang again at night, which doesn't bother's kind of interesting. But this spurt of time spent out there at the house birthed a story that has been rolling around in my brain for a month now and I sat down and wrote. If I described how it came to me and has developed, I'd be hauled off and put on Risperdol and the story would creep back into the gray spongy matter inside my skull forever. So, I won't say. It's a work in progress to be shared someday with my future great-grandchildren when they ask their parents to tell them about "the crazy grandmother".

Back to the house, and the hydro. We got very little ash in Sector Azul, though the surrounding glaciers and remaining snow are completely covered in it. The water supply appears clear and tastes the same. Rio Azul and the Desague both are amazingly clear and I saw large, fat fish laying up against the bank of the Azul. Encouraging. The small amount of ash however is deceiving, and creeps into join the sawdust and general disorder of the house lending a "taller" quality to the decor.

Earlier in the week when Greg dropped me off, I found that Ismael had run the rest of the water line through the steep, high forest, down to where it will drop off to the hydro house. The little casita was finished also, waiting for the doodads and whatchamacallits to be installed. Which brings me to now...waiting in anticipation for tomorrow when Patricio is supposed to come out, put all the stuff together and somewhere up the ridge line, Ismael will turn the paso de clave, or clave de paso (another doodad of sorts) and the lights will come on. I hope. Maybe? He also tells me there is a little gadget to regulate the power, something that will ensure the light bulbs don't all explode and the fridge won't dance across the floor. I am worried about this. And for this reason I will not plug in my computer or anything else that is a big ticket item until we have any potential 'lectric bugs worked out.

So with a mixture of joyful anticipation and fear, I wait pensively to throw the switch. If I appear next week, smoking frazzled hair doo, singed clothing, dejected and morose, it did not go well. Other scenarios which might cause my absence on here for a while:

1. Patricio did not show up; or
2. Patricio showed up but needed a part that must be manufactured in the Isle of Sky; or
3. Everything worked wonderfully and I am spending a week going crazy with my Dremel and dancing around the house at 2 a.m. with all the lights on; or fourth option..
4. Lights on, blah, blah, I'm going fishing for a week.


Helen said...

Excuse me, ahh ahh why alone for 3 days? Where was Greg?

Helen said...

i suppose if you get electricity you will rally be scarce