Friday, November 12
Blue box
So I live in this town that was founded as some sort of utopian society 140 years ago (plus or minus a few months). The 'go west young man guy' may have meant here. Anyway, the town is laid out nearly completely on a rigid/solid east-west grid. Avenues run north and south. Streets run east and west. It's a rectilinear two-dimensional cartesian grid. The buildings are not very tall.
My house, however, sits on sort of a cul de sac, and it's anchored off-kilter on a 45 degree angle to the rest of this flatland (but not as flat as you assume) world. I was just outside a bit ago, with the amazingly huge black void of clear November sky, a few pinpricks of stars viewable through the streetlight glare, and from my back deck, as the dogs were romping and taking care of their business, I saw the blue box glowing for the first time this year.
I see it frequently at night, in winter mostly, or rather starting about this time of year when the leaves have dropped. Our house is on something of a gradual, very gentle hill (see, not so flat), dropping to the north down to the local neighborhood river which is maybe a mile away as the geese fly, so we overlook this huge (former) field of now gridlocked suburbia, crops and rows of rooftops (various shades of composition asphault singles) instead of corn, which is probably what it was 15 years ago.
Because my house is off center, I have weird sight angles. Tallish mountains in Wyoming are visible from the upstairs bedroom windows. The snow-capped Front Range can be seen between houses from the upstairs office windows and from the kitchen, if you stand and stretch and look in just the right place. One of these weird angles allows me to see from the back deck right into the back window of a house some distance away. I see the large sqare blue glow from a huge TV. Always seems odd, and oddly comforting. This house is about four or five houses away, across my healthily lawned yard, across a fairly busy street (hence, east-west), and then down an avenue (N-S) on which I've never even been (in a whole other neighborhood) (this being car territory, mostly) although it can't be more than 500 yards from my house. Glowing blue box. Sign of winter's approach.
So. The blue tube of television is glowing again across several backyards. We're waiting for Kristen and Reade to return with the pizzas and a movie. All is right with the world here on a chilly Friday night here on the edge of nowhere.
My house, however, sits on sort of a cul de sac, and it's anchored off-kilter on a 45 degree angle to the rest of this flatland (but not as flat as you assume) world. I was just outside a bit ago, with the amazingly huge black void of clear November sky, a few pinpricks of stars viewable through the streetlight glare, and from my back deck, as the dogs were romping and taking care of their business, I saw the blue box glowing for the first time this year.
I see it frequently at night, in winter mostly, or rather starting about this time of year when the leaves have dropped. Our house is on something of a gradual, very gentle hill (see, not so flat), dropping to the north down to the local neighborhood river which is maybe a mile away as the geese fly, so we overlook this huge (former) field of now gridlocked suburbia, crops and rows of rooftops (various shades of composition asphault singles) instead of corn, which is probably what it was 15 years ago.
Because my house is off center, I have weird sight angles. Tallish mountains in Wyoming are visible from the upstairs bedroom windows. The snow-capped Front Range can be seen between houses from the upstairs office windows and from the kitchen, if you stand and stretch and look in just the right place. One of these weird angles allows me to see from the back deck right into the back window of a house some distance away. I see the large sqare blue glow from a huge TV. Always seems odd, and oddly comforting. This house is about four or five houses away, across my healthily lawned yard, across a fairly busy street (hence, east-west), and then down an avenue (N-S) on which I've never even been (in a whole other neighborhood) (this being car territory, mostly) although it can't be more than 500 yards from my house. Glowing blue box. Sign of winter's approach.
So. The blue tube of television is glowing again across several backyards. We're waiting for Kristen and Reade to return with the pizzas and a movie. All is right with the world here on a chilly Friday night here on the edge of nowhere.
