Unfortunately, things took a turn downward at midday when I received the incredibly distressing and infuriating news that the one of financial institutions with which I am embroiled because I am transferring my accounts from one to the other had failed to do what it had promised, that is, keep my checking account untransferred until I gave them the word that the last check had cleared. They had sworn, promised, assured - choose your synonym. But then, a week after they swore, promised, and assured me, it turned out they had only just put through the information, and that for another week the funds would be in limbo, causing many checks to bounce. This is Morgan Stanley Smith Barney, by the way.
Now, everybody makes mistakes, but I had called in to make sure everything was being taken care of, and was told that everything was, even though nothing had been done. I draw the line at deliberate "misinformation." That does not count as a mistake. Anyhow, I spent about half an hour frothing at the mouth and gnashing my teeth. When I had done everything I could to rectify the situation, I drove over to a nearby patch of woods to check out a brook I hadn't been to in about two years.
It was wonderful, more wonderful than I remembered. Gnarled roots and branches; twisted, blasted trunks; mysterious holes and hollows amid the tree roots; and tiny waterfalls; rills and spills of water; the sound of rushing water - who needs more magic than that?
It has been a dry summer, with rain in the recent weeks, so although there was plenty of water in the stream, the water level was still down enough so that much of the way, I could balance from rock to rock in the stream itself. At one point I heard a crashing and a smashing, and my heart leapt into my throat. A young buck dashed down the bank, across, and up and then stood on the far side of the brook, looking at me. I stood still, and it finally turned away and loped off.
I finally pulled myself away, with much more to explore remaining. On the way back to my car, I found a dime, which reminded me of the dime I found in the waters of Stony Brook a week or two ago, and some shattered car mirror glass, which is just beautiful in a mosaic-style design on a book cover. I felt as though I had been showered with treasures that day.
Saturday brought the English Country Dance in the evening, where I even got to do the waltz, and I felt a glow of virtue that I had gone even though the scheduling was difficult.
Sunday, breakfast with a friend, cleaning up the mud room, a "short" meeting that ended up being two hours, which was really inconvenient, because I still had to go kayaking. Luckily, I still got an hour of kayaking in, which included one turtle and glowing, fiery foliage which amazed me with its glory.
I'm forgetting a few things, but that's what new posts are for!
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