Life here on Vinalhaven has been remarkably exciting, well, as exciting as life on Vinalhaven gets. Late yesterday afternoon Razzle sheepishly walked toward the barn with something strange in her mouth. It was like a stick, but it was the color of driftwood and had a smooth texture to it. I called for her to come, and her head fell below her shoulders as her pace slowed to a crawl for her unwilling return. As she got closer, I could tell something was a little off about her prize. Here’s a picture of her find:
That’s a pretty big bone. I have no idea where she found it and I hope that she doesn’t either. I will not be happy if she returns with something even larger, although I admit it is really cute to see her proud of herself.
Later in the evening, as we were getting ready to have dinner, I heard the whirring sound of a stuck car on our road. Our road is basically a long driveway that leads to our house and our neighbor’s property. The ride is bumpy and unwelcoming, so we rarely get curious uninvited visitors. Figuring that the stuck vehicle must belong to guests of our neighbors, my dad and I walked down to the road to see if our tractor or pickup truck could help free them. The scene we stumbled upon consisted of a short, shirtless, fat guy staring at the right front tire of his old red pickup truck and his tall, skinny beer drinking buddy in the truck bed giving incomprehensible advice. “Shit,” my dad and I thought to ourselves. Although we didn’t verbalize it we were clearly both thinking, “These guys are wasted, we are in the middle of nowhere, and now we have to help them.” The prospect of interacting with these guys in any capacity was not something we wanted to consider, but by the time we had figured this out we were already committed to helping them. Luckily, by the time we got the tractor down to the spot where they drove off the road they had already unstuck their truck and disappeared. Unfortunately, this also means two drunk guys were once again cruising the streets of Vinalhaven, probably to crash their truck once again.
This event freaked my mom out so much that when we finally did sit down for dinner she proclaimed, “I want a gun.” Apparently, the seclusion of our place has finally gotten to her. I don’t know if she should get a gun for these situations exactly, but one thing is for sure. A shotgun and food supply would be all that’s necessary to make our house on Vinalhaven the best retreat in the even of a zombie attack that I could possibly imagine.
