Yesterday after teatime, or at least shortly after the time
we would have had tea if we had had tea, my wife, Pam, and I walked into our
backyard to check our garden. As we opened the garden door, we were struck by a
fetor. It was a stench not unlike that of the Mexican scarecrow. I am not sure
if that is the proper name for a dead crow hanging from a pole by its feet in a
field but that is what I have been told. Anyway, it smelled like some critter
had died in our yard and did not have the common decency to bury itself.
After picking a few tomatoes, Pam noted that the smell was
gone. It wasn't that we had gotten used to it – this was a smell that no person
would get used to – it was just plain gone.
Later that evening, while we were watching reruns of
Masterpiece Mystery, Pam and I heard a big thump (or would that be a bump) at
our front door. After making sure our cat was still at our feet and not doing
his hormone driven rampage which includes bouncing off the walls, we both went
to the door and slowly opened it. I carefully let Pam take the lead but nothing
was there and no one was nearby.
Then, about eleven-thirty, I decided that I needed a proper
soaking in our hot tub. It was a moonless evening with the sky looking a bit
van Gogh-ish due to its bright blueness and the stars blurred by my astigmatism.
I was into a deep relaxation, which some would call meditation but I don’t
meditate so I guess I was in a state of rumination when I heard a rustling
under our Mediterranean fan palm. Stirrings in our flora at night are a
somewhat common occurrence with the rats, the raccoons, the opossums, the skunks,
and the occasional stray cat. But shortly after hearing the first crepitation
the same stench from the afternoon ruined my rumination.
This noisome mephitis startled me. I remembered hearing
various wackos talk about smelling apparitions. Some say they smell roses; some
say they smell wet dogs; others say they smell rotting flesh. Well, I smelled
rotting flesh and I decided that, unlike the nice clean smell of our occasional
startled skunk, this was not a smell I was going to enjoy while sitting buck
naked in hot water in the dark.
Normally, when exiting from our hot tub, I slowly extract
myself and close the lid while rubbing my wet body against the nearby rosemary
and lavender plants for a bit of aroma therapy. I then put on my robe and stare
at the stars or the moon while drip drying on the patio. Last night I slammed
the lid closed, jumped over the lavender, ran toward the house while struggling
into my robe, and quickly entered the house locking the door behind me.
Maybe because it is October and everywhere I go – bookstore,
grocery store, tea shop – I see ghouls and witches; maybe because I am reading
the biography of Edgar Allen Poe which includes much of his dark verse; or
maybe my imagination is on overdrive, but I have to wonder what the true source of that smell was - ghosts, zombies,
vampires?
Tonight when I go for my starlit ablution I will take a flashlight, a
machete, and maybe a mirror and some garlic.
