A Storm to Remember

I’ve known it’s owner for years, but only visited the guesthouse for the first time last summer. When my flight was almost diverted because of severe thunderstorms, I should, perhaps, have heeded the sign from the powers that be. On my way to the guesthouse, I received a brief text indicating that the electricity was out and that I should “head for the river”. After a round trip to get out of my city clothes and into a bathing suit I did just that without fully considering the ramifications.

I spent three lovely days in the guesthouse. As past visitors have indicated, the accommodations are lovely, the company is exceptional, and the bar is truly unsurpassed. After the second day of mobile security, swimming and fishing in the river, greeting the humongous spider that waited on my pillow every night, and sleeping in a light sheen of my own sweat the lack of electricity (and running water) began to catch up with me. Just after we ventured out in search of a shower the power returned and all was righted with the world.

The colors were brighter, the smells sweeter, and the drinks tastier. That had to change, so on my last morning before donning my city clothes and returning to the doldrums of the real world there was a final project to complete. Freshly showered, and wearing my only non-city shoes, we set out to complete the demolition of a zillion-year-old chicken coop. For those of you who haven’t spent time around chickens in their natural state, they aren’t the most pleasant creatures. Now, imagine ages and ages of that goodness caked, layered, and plastered on every surface.

When we finally got the superstructure hauled away and began pulling up the sub-floor we found one last surprise: The petrified corpse of a possum that had spent it’s last moments under the coop. It was one of the defining experiences of my life.