I willed the rain to stop so I could take my first walk up to Laudat. Just down my drive and out the gate and she started again. The sky had just been blue. I stepped into my neighbor’s garage and did a salute to the sun, some utkatasana, crescent moons and a back bend, two trees and it stopped and I headed up the mountain to see what the December 2013 rains had wrought. No one could get down the mountains on Christmas Eve. They were all blocked by boulders and felled trees. The water found newer routes and created a ravines where there had been none.
There were some dirt avalanches and the breakdown lane on ten feet of cliffside, just gone. I pictured a car at night. One reflecting stick would do. The country of Dominica was granted some money to widen the road at one turn and when they carved into the mountain they did it at just the right point so the rest of the precipice would be stable. Not a pebble fallen. Piper, whom I met on the way to his land pointed out the path to the top. The whole world to the sea.
Yesterday I baked bread pudding and brought it to the new shop in the hood to be sold. It is run by the people who have the spring that supplies our water. I love to bake and love to eat sweets. Not a good combination. Now I can make my brownies and keep one for myself and sell the rest. Maybe make some Alice B Toklas. The Carnival cruisers are in town. We supply the Caribbean and its ships at sea the water that they need: the gold of the twenty-first century. We Americans have taught our commercialism and tourism well and a company with safari trucks carries people up the mountain to wander in the rainforest, see our magnificent falls, at least five world class ones, the second largest boiling lake and the bestscuba and snorling east of the Great Barrier Reef. But it is raining. The open air truck is full and all the tourists are bundled into clear plastic trash bags with cut-out faces. It tickled my fancy. I turned to a few locals and said, “They’re packaging thewhite folks for you now. Body in a bag.”