In Maryland, there were possums at night. In Massachusetts, Tink and Zeugma were terrified at the sight of a curious raccoon outside the kitchen door.
And here?
A skunk and her brood sauntered across my lawn, all tails held high, as I took out the trash tonight. My friend Jen’s right: they’re kinda cute, if you can get yourself over the DANGER DANGER STAY AWAY reflex. Me, I froze, and didn’t take another step until the skunk family (I’ve yclept the mama Alice) was well down the sidewalk.
But they get around, and they’re apparently pretty social: in these late summer nights, there’s been every night a funk drifting in the windows that says Alice met someone she didn’t like. So, too, as one passes the town park or drives past a certain spot on 9W, there’s the skunk smell.
Which I’m starting to discover isn’t the only thing stinky about this attitudinal little podunk village of Highland Falls, New York.
Skunks in podunk? Who’da thunk?
Speaking of things that just don’t smell good, I’ve spent a week urging Verizon to get our phones running–thought about your exasperating experience of a few weeks ago. I had to use the two “C” words to get them out here: “cancel” and “Comcast.”
One of my favorite smells in the world. Some people are just wired errr weird like that. My wife thinks I am crazy. Is she right? I tend to think so. We live by quite a few farms/woodlands and I love to smell that as we drive by.