The Keystone Cops

Posted February 3rd, 2010 by kerri and filed in small house living
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25 Comments

Barn

Where, oh, where are you S.A.B.L.E? I need your address to send your Sanyo bat­ter­ies! Please email me today! fivecoat@​ozarkmountains.​com

Yesterday morn­ing I had dreamed we had moved back to the city, so when I got up in my real-world oasis and made my way over to The Belle Writer’s Studio in the dark and not yet hav­ing my cof­fee, I guess I was still a bit confused.

Sitting in the silence of the morn­ing with Emma and Sade at my side, read­ing the lat­est news on my com­puter, I heard a thud that sounded like a car door slam­ming. This wouldn’t have been unusual to hear early in the morn­ing in the city as neigh­bors got in their cars and began their com­mute to work. Because my mind was still some­where between here and there, I didn’t give it another thought.

The dogs perked up.

Snow Pile

Another thud.

Wait a minute, my mind finally said. We’re not sup­posed to be hear­ing car doors out here – espe­cially at 5 a.m!

By now the dogs were at full alert.

Thud.

Now they were bark­ing wildly at the door.

I went to the door, stepped into the dark­ness and listened.

Thud. Definitely com­ing from the metal out­build­ing fur­ther up the drive. It sounded as if some­one were slam­ming the door to the metal build­ing, or maybe rum­mag­ing around.

Dale!?” I called into the pre-dawn. No response.

Someone or some­thing was def­i­nitely mess­ing with the metal building.

As the dogs bolted from the porch into the dark­ness toward the build­ing, I lept from the land­ing and went run­ning for the house and woke Dale up from a sound sleep.

I think someone’s try­ing to break into the metal build­ing at the top of the dri­ve­way!”
He jumped from bed, grab­bing his shirt and look­ing for his glasses.

House shoes!” He said. I grabbed them and we went run­ning up the dri­ve­way in the ice and snow.

I didn’t need a gun, he had two, one in each hand. I was the flash­light car­rier in the pitch black.

We pretty much prob­a­bly looked like the Keystone cops on a mission.

As we neared the build­ing, the only things we saw mov­ing in the beam of the flash­light were Emma and Sade, play­ing in a pile of ice and snow that had slid from the roof.

That pile wasn’t there last night,” Dale said. “You must of heard it slid­ing off.”

I tried explain­ing the dream and how my mind was still some­where between our old life and our new one.

That was a nice way to wake up,” he said, grin­ning, as I cut off the path of the dri­ve­way back toward the studio.

It’s been over 2 years and we're still get­ting used to the noises (or lack of) sur­round­ing our new home. I guess too, that the stress of the city can still some­times haunt us even when we’re in the most peace­ful place on earth.

Have you ever car­ried a dream into real life?

25 Responses to “The Keystone Cops”

  1. S.A.B.L.E. says:

    It was more like tak­ing real life into the dream world. At the time I worked in dis­patch for the BLM. The hours were long due to many wild­fires. Once home I wel­comed the chance for some sleep. I had only been asleep for a short time when the phone rang, I sleep­ily answered, "Fire Dispatch". The per­son on the other end started laugh­ing, still being pretty much asleep, I didn't real­ized what I had said. It was the office call­ing. I still laugh about it many years later.

  2. Bj says:

    Hi Kerri,

    I too know the worry of being way out back of beyond and not know­ing when you go out what you will find.…so yes, ladies, a pis­tol is a good thing to keep..but please prac­tice, you don't want a wounded bear to get mad­der.
    Kerri, I laugh because it brings back mem­o­ries of camp­ing up in the UP of Michigan (where my daugh­ter now lives). I woke one night,hearing some­thing but not see­ing any­thing, headed for the out­house since I was already up…still half asleep and walk­ing down the path, felt some­thing nudge me in the back, I reached back and swat­ted, believ­ing it to be my daugh­ter who loved to try to get mom scream­ing at times like that, and con­nected with a furry nose. I don't know who was more shocked, me or the black bear whose nose I had just swat­ted! Luckily, he took the swat well, and trot­ted off. Trust me, I now go even to the out­house in camp with my pis­tol!
    By the way, been miss­ing this blog! Glad to be back!

    • Welcome back, BJ! We're glad to have you back as well. You were missed, I've won­dered what hap­pened to you and was hop­ing you were ok! Your story is funny, but should serve us as a les­son too. None of us want to harm any­thing, but we have to be prepared.

      • Bj says:

        Exactly, Kerri, while I would not have wanted to harm that bear, had he charged me, I would have needed the Smith & Wesson backup system. 

        As to being okay, just life got incred­i­bly busy! I am on sev­eral com­mit­tees at my school, and recently returned for my Masters degree, so.…;-)

        • Kudos on going back after that mas­ters! I have often wished I had the time and the money to get an MFA. I guess an advanced degree is like kids…you just have to take the plunge. Good luck with it, but don't for­get us! :)

  3. Peace and quite..is great. Where we live now is in the back of a "moun­tain" sub divi­sion we see may 10 cars drive by a day…we expe­ri­ence a quiet­ness hear deeper than most of our camp­ing trip to any of the nat. for­est or parks…more neigh­bors by far in a campground. 

    But when we visit our 200 foot cabin at our land in NM…the silence is even more absolute…there the only road is about a mile away…it make your ears ring some­times by the depth of it. It is only bro­ken by the wind in the tree, the birds or the coy­otes at night..Heaven in our book.

  4. Fran says:

    Oh, what a funny story. I remem­ber the first time I lived in the coun­try with my hus­band. I am from the city and he lived in the coun­try all his life. Well, we rented this house and the sounds around there where NOT sounds I knew let me tell you lol. Every night I would shake him awake telling him I heard some­thing close to the house. It was always an ani­mal lol. It took me a few weeks to get use to it.
    We lived there for 10 years until we got to buy our first house. Unfortunately we could not afford to buy in the coun­try so we are in the city right now. So I had to start all over again the weird sounds lol. 

    I am really enjoy­ing your web­site as I sit here in my city home long­ing for a small place in the country.

    • Hi, Fran, I'm glad you're enjoy­ing Living Large! We are hav­ing a mix­ture of snow and ice tonight so we're hop­ing not to hear the sounds of the trees crack­ing again!
      Sounds can freak us out when we're not used to them. My great aunt used to come and stay with us when I was a kid. We lived in a rail­road com­mu­nity and of course, to some­one who lived there all of the time, we didn't notice the sounds of the rails. She had to sleep with me in my bed­room in our lit­tle bun­ga­low and each time, she would wake me and ask "What is THAT noise!" My answer was always the same, "It's the trains!"

  5. Susan says:

    Last night my hus­band was clean­ing some guns and said he needed to have one be left out of the gun safe…could just see try­ing to remem­ber the com­bi­na­tion to get a gun for pro­tec­tion. Can just see telling the crook to wait a minute. Told him about Dale com­ing out ban­ish­ing two guns…made him smile. Just glad it was noth­ing more than the snow slid­ing off the roof.
    I had an inci­dent back in the late 70's, Ron was out of town and it was just me and 3 of the kids.
    We were liv­ing out in the county and I kept hear­ing some­one prowl­ing around the house. When I finally got enough courage to go look, what a relief it was to just see the cows hadn't got­ten through the fence and were munch­ing on the plants by the house.

    • I know, it seems silly and we've been laugh­ing about it all week. However, you just never know. In the city, we had a kid high on some­thing come into our house in the mid­dle of the night think­ing it was the drug house 2 doors down. Another time here, while Dale was still work­ing in the city, I was here alone and the dogs kept going crazy. when I let them out, they acted all weird at the side of the garage, as if some­one were in the shad­ows. I came in and pulled the shades and locked the door. That fall, Dale found a tarp and some camp­ing stuff and a few pieces of trash down the hill, less than 100 yards from the house by the lake. Someone had been camp­ing there some­time that sum­mer and I think it was that night the dogs were act­ing all weird. And, there have been homes bro­ken into on our road dur­ing hunt­ing season.

  6. gary miller says:

    hey, the time has come…living on less!!! while on your site i only see one floor plan is there another level under of a loft for sleep­ing ?? if so it would be nice to see. thanx G.

    • Welcome to liv­ing large, Gary! There is only one level to our house. Our bed­room is actu­ally marked "office" on that plan as the Little House was orig­i­nally to be our guest house and my writer's stu­dio. We have a 320 square foot sep­a­rate build­ing that is the writ­ers stu­dio. Unfortunately, I don't have nice plans for it. The builder and I drew them on a napkin!

  7. Kim says:

    Smart Dale tot­ing the weaponry! Bears are noth­ing to mess with, epe­cially a momma with her cubs… bet­ter safe than sorry.

    • kerri says:

      Exactly, Kim. Although we love sit­ting on the safety of the deck and lis­ten­ing to the cougar screech­ing or even the coy­otes bay­ing at night, it is unset­tling to be walk­ing into the black­ness. Last night, while walk­ing home from the writer's stu­dio, it seemed we were sur­rounded by the yip­ping coy­otes and I just wanted to get to the porch!

  8. Cindyt says:

    Catching up on my read­ing tonight and what a chuckle I got read­ing about your key­stone cops early am ven­ture! Reminded me of when I was a young bride.…oh at least a hun­dred years ago. Just 18 y/o com­ing from Calif and going 'back­wards' in time (that is what it felt like any­way' to our lit­tle first home in Missouri..I called it Misery way before the book/movie. Anyway, hav­ing never lived where it snowed on a reg­u­lar basis other than a fun dust­ing every now and then. We had major snow and ici­cles galore 2 and 3 feet long hang­ing off the house. Imagine my silly self think­ing some one was try­ing to break in the wall when the snow and ice started slid­ing. Different sounds, dif­fer­ent expe­ri­ences. The joy of Life! Cindyt

  9. Kristi says:

    Totally off sub­ject, but my dog is named Emma also. 

    Back on sub­ject, I won­der what your hus­band was dream­ing about before being awoken suddenly.

  10. Alexandra says:

    It took us a long while to learn to live with the silence here in the Cape Cod woods. Now I find it hard to sleep if I visit friends in the city. I enjoyed this post. My elderly father used to wake up and still be in his dreams, visions of St. Petersburg, Russia where he lived as a child. Did Dale really have a gun in each hand or did you imag­ine that, too?

    • The last time I was in the city last May, I still found the sounds of the city sooth­ing in a weird sort of way. 43 years of liv­ing there, I guess! I remem­ber the first (and only) time I heard a siren here. It was com­ing from 2 miles away up on the ridge. Weird. I wouldn't even have noticed that in the city.
      As for Dale, nope, didn't imag­ine that. We are really out in the wilder­ness here, we don't leave the house with­out a gun — espe­cially into blind dark­ness. While we wouldn't want to shoot any­thing, there are many dan­gers here.

  11. That could be, Mary. At least the sounds I heard were real. The anx­i­ety of being robbed or home inva­sions still haunt my dreams and I guess this time it car­ried into reality!

  12. Interesting blog. The fears of the unknown. We appear to have unknown sounds sur­round­ing our place each night. Maybe, some were in my dreams and I woke-up and thought they were real.

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