Late Saturday afternoon I was determined to get some pictures of the work we've been doing on the front of The Fahm and being the Brave & Hearty Lass that I am, I went out in the coldest coldy cold we've experienced thus far. The temperature itself wasn't that cold. It was the Artic Canadian Snow Mass NoGlobalWarmingHere Wind that whipped leaves and small branches into a tizzy, snatched a storm window off the second floor and dashed it to the ground, flipped a 5 foot aluminum ladder upside down and alarmed The Kittehs, that made all the difference.
I bundled up in many layers, put on my fingerless gloves and stepped out of the Coal Room, immediately tripping over the aluminum ladder. Cursing only mildly, I picked myself back up and started to do my thing with the camera. That's when I heard the first volley: BAM BAM ... BAM BAM ... BAM...BAM. As far as I could tell (being the expert on gunfire that I am not) the shots were coming from direction of the Reservoir. Poor duckies, I thought, poor Dam Beavers.
ANYLET'SNOTGETMAUDLINWAY
Another volley: BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM
Even using Kanye West-style caps do not begin to convey what the sound of shotgun fire was like to my Urbanized ears: quite frankly, I find it STRESSFUL. It feels entirely unnatural just to have that much NOISE in such a quiet place, and so perhaps that is part of my big ol' startle response. When I lived in Oakland (no violence there), the sounds of gunfire were swallowed up by all the other city sounds: freeways, backfiring cars, trucks grinding gears, people shouting and/or laughing, dogs barking, planes, trains, & BARTmobiles, the Port of Oakland, the East Bay Bridge falling apart, Gavin Newsome blaming the media, etc.
Here there is no such noise pollution so BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM came through as the dominant note in an otherwise windful new word symphony. I briefly considered turning on the video function and recording some of the blasts but I found that shotgun fire is very unpredictable, and by the time I heard the first note and got the camera ready the last note was just firing. Am I mixing metaphors? BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM.
I bundled up in many layers, put on my fingerless gloves and stepped out of the Coal Room, immediately tripping over the aluminum ladder. Cursing only mildly, I picked myself back up and started to do my thing with the camera. That's when I heard the first volley: BAM BAM ... BAM BAM ... BAM...BAM. As far as I could tell (being the expert on gunfire that I am not) the shots were coming from direction of the Reservoir. Poor duckies, I thought, poor Dam Beavers.
ANYLET'SNOTGETMAUDLINWAY
Another volley: BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM
Even using Kanye West-style caps do not begin to convey what the sound of shotgun fire was like to my Urbanized ears: quite frankly, I find it STRESSFUL. It feels entirely unnatural just to have that much NOISE in such a quiet place, and so perhaps that is part of my big ol' startle response. When I lived in Oakland (no violence there), the sounds of gunfire were swallowed up by all the other city sounds: freeways, backfiring cars, trucks grinding gears, people shouting and/or laughing, dogs barking, planes, trains, & BARTmobiles, the Port of Oakland, the East Bay Bridge falling apart, Gavin Newsome blaming the media, etc.
Here there is no such noise pollution so BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM came through as the dominant note in an otherwise windful new word symphony. I briefly considered turning on the video function and recording some of the blasts but I found that shotgun fire is very unpredictable, and by the time I heard the first note and got the camera ready the last note was just firing. Am I mixing metaphors? BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM.
