The hummingbirds are acting like assholes. There are three of them that swoop around chasing each other away from the feeder whenever one of them decides it’s time for a snack. Apparently, this means they are getting ready to start migrating. I’m not sure how well that will turn out, since they seem to be using up all the energy gleaned from the sugar water in the process of preventing their rivals from drinking the sugar water. Anyhow, the impending departure of the hummingbirds is not welcome news in my book. Despite the fact that each season is exactly the same number of weeks, summer always whizzes by much faster than winter. For me, the days between June and August blur into one another like the scenery outside the window of a bullet train, when I’d much rather be on the milk run.
In other news, last weekend was beautifully clear and calm, which is why it was baffling that the power went out at 10:30 on Saturday morning. Not that a lack of electricity is unusual around here. It happens often enough that I signed up for Hydro None to send me a text when it goes out because they also tell me when it should be restored. On Saturday, it was supposed to be back on at 2:30.
We and our guests (there appears to be a strong correlation between having guests and power outages) managed to get through lunch without opening the fridge door too many times nor flushing the toilet, safe in the knowledge there would be electricity long before dinner. And indeed, it briefly came on at the appointed time – just long enough to give me a chance to reset the clocks on the stove and microwave.
A few minutes later, HN sent me a text that said “Power has been restored to 482 Island 290. If you still don’t have power text OUT.” I duly sent a text and the HN robot texted back. “Please help me understand the type of outage you are experiencing. Are your lights FLICKERING or OFF? Reply FLICKERING or OFF.” Clearly a robot with a short memory and only a passing acquaintance with the word “out.” Then, half an hour later, a new text came in that said “the updated estimated time of restoration is 7:00 PM.”
This required a rethink of several things. First, how dinner was going to get on the table, and second, how to continue to function with a full house of people without working bathrooms. I decided dinner could wait until after 7:00 and liquids could be restricted, and anyone not complying with the latter could take advantage of the ample selection of trees and bushes. We sat outside in the clear, calm day, and waited for the high sign from HN. Promptly at 7:00, the power made another brief appearance. Long enough to give me time to reset the kitchen clocks again. Then HN sent another text. “The updated estimated time of restoration is 7:15.” And indeed, after the dress rehearsal, we returned to the land of the modern conveniences, and to the solemn knowledge that summer would soon be turning off its own switch.