ROAD WORK KEEPS CUTTING INTERNET
Outside, the hawthorns, oaks, hickory trees, palms and pines stopped dripping. In fact, the vegetation is resting; it is calm and quiet after the hours-long midnight light show, constant thunder, gusting rain.
Had I experienced the thousands of lightning flashes per second in my 80 years on this earth? Without any access to research about my environment in North Florida, it is almost impossible to dig through the files in my brain. For now, I am emulating the calmness of the outside.
Inside the house—a different calmness. The only sound is from the radio. No flashing lights on the modem. No blue, no red and certainly no green. That is life without access to the world-wide web. It has been this way for a week. This is the second time road work in unit one of Wakulla Gardens has severed the telephone line.
Depending on whether I want to look up an exotic recipe, or have my morning Wordle fix, reality mirrors this morning’s outside. All is calm, all is quiet.
It is too quiet. There is no certainty any more that the internet provider, or the workers digging deep holes in my access roads to Wakulla Gardens have a clue that we are back here in the woods. Are we beyond reach of the modern world? Maybe so. This might be a good thing, right? “An agent will be back with you shortly.” The concept of “shortly” means Century Link has gone bananas with its texts that are the only response to outage reports.
I am grateful that we have no children addicted to any electronic media. Yet my brain is addicted. The embarrassing realization pokes holes in my calmness. There is no more access to the international media I relish reading in the morning, or instant answers to INaturalist or Merlin to affirm what I am seeing outside.
Ooops, I spoke too soon. The Rusty Haw outside my picture window just caught a large branch from the Laurel Oak. The wood piles are teetering. A reminder that I may have to contact Century Link (again) to tell that company that I appreciate some of their workers trying for more than a week to discern what has been broken underneath the roads. I have no intention of paying their full monthly bill.
We have an outside antenna — when it storms, it is spotty at best. I may have to resort to NO television as well. Except for the weather forecasters. That way I will know when my forest will begin shaking off more moisture or limbs while I resurrect my yoga mat to straighten up.
Madeleine H. Carr
Crawfordville