Lights out

The power went out yesterday morning, and the electrician and I just now restored it.  In fact, it was the simple matter of switching the main breaker.  Dr. Ewell had told me where to find the two fuse boxes inside lo Stallino e la casa grande, each with a main breaker of its own.  These were all switched on, but not the mother breaker, which I just now found hiding in the external wall side of the Stallino.


While not having electricity for twenty-four hours may sound like an inconvienence, it was lovely.  It rained yesterday afternoon, and I napped with the windows open to the cool air.  At night, the skies cleared, and I built a fire and cooked porkchops and peppers.  Mist breathed in the valleys, and the headlights of the cars that swept across the hillroads formed solid mass that drummed staccato through the trees.  I sat in front of the fire past midnight with Toby and a bottle of Syrah, reading and watching fire from the pit and the silver candle-sticks brought up from the dining room, while over time, their dripping wax gathered in weeping stalactites.  Night birds and tree-frogs sang to me, stars fell overhead, and I bathed in firelight watched the heavens' silent chalice turn.