ANOTHER DAY IN THE COUNTRY:   Lights out in Ramona

© Another Day in the Country

Friday night, the end of a busy week, I did a lot of mowing, again. Low on energy already, I was ready to just sit and be entertained.

“I’ve got a video,” my sister said. “Want me to bring it over?” I did. She did. Then the lights went out.

Well, so much for watching a video. Now what?

Being the City Clerk and a good one I might add, Jess was immediately on the phone attempting to report the outage.

As one of the Bed and Breakfast industry, Jess is ever ready for emergencies. She already had her rechargeable flashlight in-hand. I could see it winking from room to room in her house as she was on hold, trying to get through to Westar.

Meanwhile, I sat on the porch swing in the deepening darkness, waiting to see if the electricity would come back on.

It was lighter outside than inside.

I saw the neighbor come outside with a lantern in hand and sit on his swing. Each of us a little island, on our own, in the dark.

Across the field, I saw a flare of light at my sister’s back door. Not only does she have her trusty flashlight but something else — a candle? I had already lit candles in the house, a small flare to guide us back inside, a tiny flicker to warm the shadows.

As she got closer, I could see in her hand a glass-enclosed candle that you find on the altar of Catholic churches.

“I should get about 20 of these,” Jess laughed, “Next time I’m at the Dollar Store. They are the handiest candles for emergencies.” I agreed.

Whether your dilemma is spiritual (insight) or physical (needing to see), they are a multi-purpose solution — and a safe one, at that.

“I’m bringing this for you,” she said — ever helpful.

When the mosquitoes finally drove us indoors in the deepening twilight, the candlelight was soft in the living room, surprisingly cheery and inviting.

Everything was quiet in the house — not a hum of noise. No distractions, except the cats that had come inside with us. In the semi-light, Skeeter could see an insect flying around. She jumped and batted at something only she could see.

With the lights out, we talked softer. No excited conversations, just relaxed reminiscing with stretches of quiet in between stories.

An hour went by. It felt like bedtime.

Jess headed out the door and then she called, “Oh, come look at the fireflies.”

I walked out onto the front yard and gasped; I could barely believe my eyes. The fireflies, usually pin pricks in the night, looked like tiny flares, matches being lit in the darkness. The grass and the air were full of them. I had never seen them so brilliant.

Looking up, I gazed at stars overhead. The inky night sky filled with diamonds. It’s hard in this day and age to find dark nights to appreciate the universe.

Usually, the streetlights, the yard lights, the house lights interfere, diluting the beauty of nighttime.

However, on this night, we were treated to an unencumbered celestial sight. I just drank it all in, the stillness, the quiet beauty of the night.

“Good night,” I said and the words took on new meaning. Such a good night, it is, always is and do we notice?

It seemed like a good time to go to bed. I blew out the candle in the bathroom, felt my way toward the bed and saw something out the window — glowing orange in the distance.

Was that the moon coming up full of glory?

It was.

“Ahhhh, this was a splendid way to end the day,” so unexpected.

Later, the lights came on just before midnight. They interrupted the tranquility of night, but I was thankful for their return on another day in the country.

 

Quantcast