The power went out in our neighborhood this afternoon in a big storm that dropped baseball-sized hail on communities to the west of us and broke tree limbs here. I came home a bit early because I was excited to see the neighborhood with no electricity, excited for a night at home with candles and no television, no crime-drama psychopaths tonight. Our recent favorite is Luther, a BBC crime drama about a detective whose alter ego is a female psychopath, both equally smart and driven, one to evil and the other to stop it; it is surprising how frequently their theoretically opposed paths overlap. At any rate, no Luther tonight, and Dennis is off at the pool hall to play one-pocket with our friend Tim who tries his damndest to beat him but is lucky to win one game out of 10, or even 20 sometimes. Dennis has gained some notoriety with the older black men who people the hall day and night, and now he is permitted to use one of the tables at the front, and gets good-naturedly slapped around and joked with. At home, I sat on the back steps as the sun started down and ate slices of cheese and the remains of some coleslaw I made on the weekend and watched the sky, steely grey-blue with thunder and lightning still off in the south, and watched the yard, quiet, it seems the birds and squirrels are regrouping from the storm. Admired the work Dennis and I did over the weekend, planted a witch-hazel bush and a dwarf bald cypress, some more perennials, dressed the beds with leaf mold we loaded onto the truck at the park. Lay on my back on the porch and watched the sky change and darken and the bats come out- I am glad to see the bats. The neighbors on either side of us are not here, I think they may have found a hotel for the night. I am enjoying the quiet. The electrical linemen are here, a couple houses down where a tree fell on the line, restoring the power. One just said “Got any Old Style?” With luck, I’ll be able to make coffee in the morning.