It is a lesson in causality.
I will spare readers the details. Some of them are dull, others ugly. Too ugly.
Last night, because it was the night of the Full Buck moon, I ventured out on a 141-acre pond I had never before kayaked around. I had been by this lovely pond many times, but I had never circumnavigated it either by boat or on foot. (There are no paths or roads that circle it, though a town road skirts the north and western edge.) The pond is 12 miles from my home.
It was a beautiful evening, and the breeze was perfect for keeping the mosquitoes away. Despite the breeze, the paddling was relatively easy. Several small coves were even rather calm. And I was able to get close to a pair of loons, which was a pleasant surprise.
Just as I made myself to the north/northwest end of the pond, I looked south and east and, through a gap in the hills, spotted the glorious full moon. A front had come through a couple of hours earlier, chasing away the humidity. The sky was crystalline, crisp, and getting cool; the moon was brilliant. I drifted for a while adoring the cosmos and thanking God. It was perfect, just a gentle breeze. No bugs. Nothing but Beauty. And Bliss.
Until I got out of the kayak. Then I discovered that my bare legs had been ravaged by ceratopogonidae. Biting midges, no-see-ums. These nasty, invisible vicious little creatures had found refuge from the wind inside the cockpit of my kayak and feasted on my naked legs (I prefer to kayak in shorts). Their legacy looked like a burn; it felt worse than poison ivy. And then I remembered a friend warning me about the very pond I was standing next to. "The no-see-ums will kill you!" he warned, and I believe I not only doubted him, but I chose to forget his words. Why would I forget such a warning, especially since, of all the biting bugs that bug me, no-see-ums ravage me?
When I got home -- everyone is away so I am a bachelor -- and having made peace with nature, I made myself a huge salad with tomatoes, extra sharp cheddar, avocados, mandarin oranges, raisins and other pleasures, and then made a curious decision: I concluded that the messy kitchen, including the imperishable groceries from the day before that had not been put away, could wait. Besides, I told myself, I really love cleaning the kitchen in the morning...
Did I tell you my dog died in April? And did I tell you we still have a pet door to the outdoors that the cat just loves to use? Well, both things are true. I just thought you should know.
After the Mighty Midge attack, I knew that I could not sleep with the windows open, as no-see-ums (that's what we call 'em in these here parts) can easily pass through the typical window screen. So I closed the windows -- things had cooled down a lot anyway -- and turned on a fan to circulate a steady breeze over my bed. This is a capital idea, as the air current affects the flight of any no-see-um intent on doing me harm. Of course, with a fan near your head and your windows closed, you don't hear a thing. But last night there was something I probably should have heard, clearly and instantly.
I know already that you know what it is I wish I had heard. I know you know what I found when I awoke this morning. I found that I did indeed need to clean my kitchen this bright morning, as raccoons had broken into my house and made a mess of my already messy kitchen. Ever seen a whole container of perfectly good and brand new oatmeal dumped all over your kitchen island? Even the red leather on the boutique-y barstools my wife bought was scratched by eager claws. Glasses were toppled, though not broken, and avocado pits were gnawed on. My brand new bag of awesome corn chips was ripped open. There was even a huge chunk of my kitchen sponge that was missing. It was all really rather unpleasant.
And the outside garbage bins -- which I really do like to keep in order -- were toppled over in the backyard.
Needless to say, I blame this on the midges. Well, maybe not. Maybe my friend is to blame -- for not warning me sufficiently. Yeah. It's his fault.
It's amazing how much harm can come from what you don't see. Or hear.
Or heed.
Peace.
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