A couple of days ago, the work of replacing the utility poles on our road finally reached our house. A harried, orange-shirted man banged on our door and announced that our power would be off for 2 hours, then dashed away to get his crew on the job.
If the power has to be off, that was the perfect day - cool, breezy, sunny. I had nowhere to go, so I watched.
With a thud(!!) the pole landed on the grass.. a perfectly executed maneuver between trees, existing poles and vehicles. I felt like I was watching "Bob the builder" in fast motion - aka undercranking, who knew? (Actually, I haven't ever seen Bob the Builder so I'm doing some assuming here.)
The scene was vivid with green and orange capped in blue and white. I took pictures through our ancient wavy glass in the kitchen.
I have read about artists who carry a sketchbook to capture inspiring scenes. That morning, the bug bit me. I grabbed my book and scribbled... really... I scribbled. It's addictive... it makes me wonder about the fire that has been kindled.
Apparently, utility pole work crews have the same sense of timing that my it's-a-5-minute-job dearly beloved has. Four and a half hours later the power was on again.
What an interesting day.
I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the housetop. Psalm 102:7