Internet Respite Musings . . . .

I had a feeling it may be a while.  There’s just something pretty sneaky about the Internet feed. 

No bells and whistles sound off to let you know when it goes down. 

Take, this morning, for example.  I was scanning the Facebook feed when scrolling downward stalled.

Well, that’s happened many times before with Facebook.  After all, a few million folks are using the site at any given time.  There’s bound to be a traffic jam.

My patience for such cyber-snarls lasts almost a minute.  Then, I just flip to another of my favorites.

That’s when I learned the Internet was down. 

It’s so silent when it goes.

I tried my email a few times and finally decided this situation may be lasting for a while.

I remained uncharacteristically silent about my disgust that this morning’s hour of sipping coffee and checking in on all my sites had met an abrupt end.

Didn’t say a word, in fact.

Downstairs, Bill, working from his Kindle-Fire,  finally piped up:  Is the Internet down?

“Yup,” I said, figuring my morning walk after chores would last a little longer today. 

And, now more than an hour later, we still have no Internet.

The morning walk was nice with a lovely, cool breeze blowing pleasant air into my face.  The usual folks drove by and waved as they drove to work.

This morning, I chose North Kootenai Road where Murray’s farm on the west always presents exquisite, tranquil scenes as the sun lights up the mountains, the groves of trees and Murray's big rolling hayfield.

Taylor’s cows were out for their usual breakfast grazing, and the curious calves watched me, like they often do,  as I walked back home along the road next to their pasture.

I learned some Taylor family news yesterday while taking last year’s potatoes to the dump:  five boxes of spuds,  looking like porcupines with their hundreds of long white talons jutting every which way but loose from a year’s worth of growth.

Last year’s spud crop was my best ever.  Something happened early in the winter, though.  Every time I’d bring in a big red baker and cut it open, I’d find gray tater meat inside.

I don’t think they froze.  In fact, I still haven’t figured it out, but we refused to eat gray potatoes.

So, the boxes sat in the storage shed until yesterday when I carried them to the pickup, along with the regular garbage and some other throwaways---twine, shavings wrappers, etc.---from the barn.

As I pulled out of the driveway, Elizabeth and Mary Taylor were headed north with their pickup filled with big sacks full of something. 

We emptied our garbage side by side at the big bins.   Mary and I talked about our respective gardens----the bumper crops and the no shows.   

I forgot to tell her about my big, big pumpkin.  I'll tell you all about it in an upcoming post.

During our dumpster visit,  I learned that Elizabeth had landed a teaching job at a Catholic school in Southern Idaho. 

She’ll be working with nine kindergarteners for starters, and she IS excited.

Elizabeth will be a wonderful teacher.  Her eyes light up with any mention of her new job.

The dump is good for a lot of stuff, even news.  Maybe that’s why they also call it the transfer station.

Ironically, at those same bins three years ago I learned from an unnamed source that Willie had been chosen from a group of candidates to teach at Sandpoint High School.

He’s starting his fourth year soon.

And, so this morning, while walking past Taylor’s cows, I wondered what they were thinking about the upcoming departure of their human friend Elizabeth.  

I’m sure they’ll miss her.

Just about as much as I miss my Internet. 

It will come back, and I’ll be happy.

And, when Elizabeth comes home to Selle for vacations, both the cows and her parents will be happy too.

Note:  I'm happy.  I called the Internet provider at 7:34.  The Internet came back on before 7:35.