When I awoke this morning, I knew it could be a day filled with danger; with Chuck Norris's minions promising panic, disorder and chaos I could only hope to win through until sunset brought calm back to my world. My friends, I barely survived.
At first all seemed well. I arose and ran through my daily chores, preparing to face what I thought would be minimal surrounding behavior—after all, I'm in a rural area outside a smallish city in a state that is mostly ignored politically and which offers little by way of culture to the rest of the country. As I walked out the door I began to see that my assumptions were far off base. How far? The distance was deadly. DEADLY.
It began quietly, the Surrounding. First the chickadees--the little innocents I believed them to be--began fluttering about seemingly harmlessly. But no! Despite my every effort, THEY DEMANDED FOOD, AND THEY DEMANDED IT NOW. It became horribly clear—I was BEING SURROUNDED, and I hadn't even left the front deck. All around me swirled the enemies of my day's progress. After the chickadees, squadrons of blackbirds tore the air, their musical displays filling my ears. Their cheery song brought several units of Harris's Sparrows and a small brigade of Juncos fluttering in to the feeding area, apparently all intent on tearing into their daily ration. I barely came away from the attack with my life after a well-ordered division of house finches nearly cut off my escape with their bright red heads and chittering singing. As I fled I could hear all of the feathered Surrounders chanting "Mmmmm, I love this food."
Picking my way through what was now Surrounder Territory took almost more bravery than I had. All along my lane I was surrounded by windless, sunshiny glory. The grasses were in league with the sagebrush, the cottonwoods conniving with the cloudless blue sky to make my drive to the county road as surrounded as possible. I kept my eyes alternately on the lane and on the sky above me, wary of any surrounding activity that might come from the skies. Luckily I heard them both before I saw them, so I was able to avoid being surrounded by Willa and Woody, the Bald Eagles who have nested for a couple of years across from my back deck; OR SO I THOUGHT. This nesting behavior was now so obviously a covert Surrounding operation condoned and maybe even funded by Norris's Right Wing cells.
I had hoped the drive into town would be less dangerous, but it was not to be. I hadn't gone a mile on the highway before the gap between Eagle Ridge and Casper Mountain conspired to surround me in an attack of snowy beauty. The light dusting of snow had surrounded every rock and tree, leaving them helpless against the onslaught of admiration. It was then I knew I was in trouble. These "cells" Chuck Norris spoke of had been busy. Even in my local diner, a place I usually feel safe, I was quite literally surrounded with people I knew, all enjoying their lunches in the most horrifying fashion. Keeping my head low, I ate quickly, hoping that the delicious French Dip sandwich with its home-made au jus wouldn't be the death of me. Try as I may, the specter of surroundedness hovered closely, and I could not escape its clutches. Tami brought the savory sandwich, Betty brought me the peanutbutter cream pie, Tara the carafe of ice water, and Jackee the slice of lemon Tara had "forgotten" to add to my "water." When Judy came in the door and sat down to join me, I knew I was doomed—DOOMED TO BE SURROUNDED BY LOVING FRIENDS INTERESTED IN HOW MY DAY WAS GOING!!
I fled town as quickly as I could, hoping to save myself. But it was not to be. From 3 PM onwards I was surrounded again and again by one scene of jaw-dropping beauty after another. The very landscape surrounded me conspiratorially with lovely views of distant blue hills, pale golden pastures peppered with velvety cattle and their first downy calves, stair-stepped walls of Triassic redbeds, undulating flights of pairing marsh hawks, and the frisky play of half a dozen Arab horses whose long shadows followed behind them like little sisters begging to take part in the fun. Even the dog stopped to catch her breath from time to time against the waves of surroundment.
Needless to say I did get through to my home once again, but not without considerable effort. As I shut my door, thankful to have survived the Day Of Surrounding, the coming darkness blanketed the damage. At first light tomorrow I must arise and assess what will probably be unspeakable destruction. I can only imagine what the landscape will look like—more bright blue skies, flights of geese, browsing deer, river chattering over slick stones reflecting the sky, murmurs of conspiracy among the willows and maybe even the new tracks of a fox along the lane. I am shivering with terror at the thought. May a deity of some kind have mercy on us all.