[lit-ideas] Re: On Rodents and Buying a Brewery
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Mon, 13 Sep 2010 21:53:10 -0700
L. and I seized the sunshine yesterday and drove up to the lower slopes of
Mount Hood, where lavender and fruit and fresh corn abound. Well the
lavender's not actually abounding at present, but the smell is still in the air
at that farm. A fine day out, wherein we thought about buying a brewery.
In a small town we found a microbrewery with a field out back and a view of the
mountain. L. stayed with the dog, I went in to buy a beer and chat with the
fellow. It turns out we were just in time; the operation is closing tomorrow.
To pass the time, L. and I worked out how many beers you would need to sell
just to cover the employee overhead. Our rough calculation was "about ninety"
every day, and then there's the cost of ingredients and the building and, and,
and... In that location we couldn't see how it could be done. But owning a
pub in the country, with a view of the mountain... Now there's a fantasy.
On our return, after a fine dinner of fresh vegetables and fruit and sausage,
it was the time for rodents. First, when E. called, I walked into the living
room holding the phone and there, outside, on top of our largest neolithic
boulder was a squirrel patiently working his way through a pear that was at
least half his size. Eventually he gave up, left the pear on top of the stone
and attempted to drag his belly across what's left of the lawn. A quadriplegic
coyote could have caught him.
After a turn at writing, I did the evening rounds, calling for cats to come in
and so on. Checking that none was locked in the garage, I switched on the
light and there, running along the top sill of the garage door, was a tiny
mouse. Which was probably my fault. At New Year's dinner on Saturday night I
said, in response to news that someone has had mice move in, that I quite like
our kind of mice and tend to rescue them from the cats when they (the mice)
have some chance of survival. Well now we've got visitors. If they're just
visiting, I don't mind. There's nothing for them to eat in the garage and
plenty for them to eat outside. They can squeeze under the door, so I'm not
surprised that they might want to come exploring. But I shall be sure to let
the cats patrol the garage each evening.
And then there was the rat. I looked outside on the way up to bed and just
where the dog's bowl sits in the daytime, there was a rat sniffing about. Mac
had some particularly strong-smelling old salmon for his supper, so I imagine
the message went through the neighborhood, like smoke from a hamburger stand,
"Food here." I'm hoping that since there was no food to be found, the beast
reported this fact to his chums. Maybe I could just put up a sign, "No food
here for the next umpteen days; gone to buy a brewery."
Carry on.
David Ritchie,
Portland,
Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------
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