At 5:55am, the call of turkeys and velociraptors are remarkably similar.
I’m still walking down the driveway. It’s still “broken,” as The Toddler days. There’s pros and cons to this.
Con: It’s going to be in the low to mid 90s all week.
Pro: It’s summertime and I’m not sliding down in ankle deep snow and subzero temperatures. Like I did this past winter.
This morning, as I rounded the corner to head down the hill that makes our driveway the Mt. Everest of driveways, I was greeted by the sight of a turkey and her six babies on one side.
And one baby on the other.
That mother turkey stared me down like I was some kind of illegal poacher.
A rabbit ran away.
And I stopped in my tracks.
I’m not sure if a turkey can kill you. All I know is birds with talons (I might be exaggerating here) are better equipped to hang on to a driveway than a chick in flip flops. Because yes, despite owning actual sneakers, I always hike in flip flops.
Luckily, the baby turkey got the hint and ran across the driveway. Crisis averted.
When I can home this afternoon, trudging back up to the house in ninety-one degree heat and direct sunlight, sweat gathering around my kneecaps, an out of control grasshopper literally bounced off my face.
Honestly. This has been the worst succession of days in a long time. I mean, now we’re progressing into Old Testament plagues. Today grasshoppers. If I get hit in the head with a frog tomorrow, I can’t say I’d be entirely surprised.
So, the busted pipe is fixed. The old pipe is laying in a mound of dirt at the bottom of the driveway. The entire underside is noticeable devoid of, well, an underside. Which, is worrisome. In a completely after the fact worrisome kind of way.
Time frame to be fixed? Ha, we ain’t got no stinking time frame. The flood waters have receded like The Hubs’ hairline. From my “standing on the sidelines, not even remotely mechanical” point of view, I think we’re just waiting on more dirt.
The Hubs assured me this is the case. “They’ll just dump on more dirt and that will be that.”
“But what keeps that dirt in place and not just, crumbling into the creek bed?” I asked, hoping for an answer like concrete. Or steel rebar.
“Grass.” The Hubs responded.
Grass. Grass. Okay, maybe technically that can be your Jeopardy! answer. But my preferred, going to drive my car over it response is something more…something more, “Sure, you can totally drive your car over that.”
Not excited about this, guys. Not at all.