thepaper24-7.com
Carrie spots yet another owl - The Paper of Montgomery County
Home
|
The Paper
|
Subscribe
|
Contact Us
|
Community Events
Public Notices
News ▼
Police Blotter
Local News
School News
Club News
Bits 'n' Pieces
Engagements
Weddings
Births
Anniversaries
Ask M.A.C.
Sports ▼
Local Sports
From The Cheap Seats
Sports Photo Galleries
Wabash College
Then & Now with Bill Boone
The Good Sport
Kenny Thompson
Columnists ▼
Tim Timmons
Karen Zach
Dr. John Roberts
League of Women Voters
Purdue Extension Office
City of Crawfordsville
Dick Wolfsie
Ginger Claremohr
Neil Burk
John Marlowe
Carrie Classon
Management 101
Butch Dale
Stacey Baschwit
Opinion ▼
Letters to the Editor
What We Think
Todd Barton
Howey Politics Indiana
Obituaries ▼
Obituaries
E-Edition ▼
The Paper
Montgomery Memories
MSR
Special Sections
Weather ▼
Crawfordsville Weather
You are here:
home
:
columnists
:
columnists
:
carrie spots yet another owl
Carrie spots yet another owl
By Carrie Classon
, Columnist
Wednesday, November 27, 2019 12:14 AM
Carrie Classon’s memoir, “Blue Yarn: A Memoir About Loss, Letting Go, & What Happens Next” is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other fine stores. Learn more at CarrieClasson.com.
First, I noticed the owl.
“Peter! Did you see the owl?!”
Our last Airbnb in Spain had a ceramic owl. So, when I found a similar owl—in a similarly inconvenient location—I took it as a good omen.
“What owl?” my husband, Peter, said.
Then I found four more owls, bringing our tally up to five.
“Five owls! Now I know this is going to be a good trip!”
“Huh,” Peter agreed. (Sometimes Peter’s not as effusive as I am.)
We are staying in Frigiliana, a small town in the south of Spain. The rent was suspiciously cheap, but the reviews were all good except to say that the house was on a road with stairs. There is a good reason for this: the town predates wheels. Roads with stairs work perfectly fine if you don’t drive on them.
We were dropped off as close as possible, then faced the challenge of dragging our luggage up the stairs (which was actually the road) to the little blue door of our house. We met our landlady who was both informative and hardy as she hefted our luggage over the cobblestone.
Peter and I have our travel priorities well synched. First, Peter made ice cubes because we need more ice than any European can imagine. We don’t care. We like ice. Peter makes ice cubes in small plastic cups he brings along.
“Wonderful ice cubes!” Peter remarks, every time he does this.
Then we found the tourism office (there actually was one!) after we took a wrong turn and asked directions at the gelato shop. I did not have a gelato as it was threatening to rain and no one likes to eat gelato in the rain. Plus, I had just polished off an entire bag of cookies I bought just to see if they were any good. (They were.)
Then we went to the big grocery store which was not big but had everything we needed. They had a lot of vegetables and a variety of beans, including some I could not identify. So, naturally, I bought them. It turns out they were mammoth fava beans with skin still on them. Who knew fava beans had skin? Who knew it had to be removed?
Peter made soup with the fava beans. After the soup was cooked, Peter fished the beans out of the soup and skinned them. This is not the recommended order of operations.
“It’s not that bad!” Peter said. “It’s like shucking shrimp!” (Peter is such a romantic.)
Then I went up to the bathroom and opened the door to the rooftop terrace. The bathroom is upstairs, all by itself, and the entrance to the terrace is through the bathroom. (It is an unusual arrangement.) Outside I discovered two cats on the roof who immediately made it clear they were expecting a handout. I rustled up some milk. I am quite sure they will show up tomorrow expecting bigger things.
Of course, not everything could go well. We failed to find any kitchen towels—which now constitutes an emergency. (A person needs at least one minor emergency just to keep sharp.)
We went to bed early. It started to rain. There had not been much rain, so everyone was grateful. I was lying in bed when I saw it.
“Peter! Another owl!”
The church bells stop ringing at 10 p.m. At least, I think they do, as that is the last thing I remember.
“Six owls!” I said to Peter, as the church bells rang.
“Umm,” Peter replied. I could tell he was impressed.
Till next time,
Carrie
Carrie Classon is a freelance writer and author and lives in New Mexico. Her columns appear each Wednesday.
Submit a comment
*
indicates a required field
Please fill out the form below to submit a comment.
Comment
*
Your Name
Email
Phone
A comment must be approved by our staff before it will displayed on the website.
Submit
X
Search only accepts letters and numbers.
Advanced Search
Username
Password
Remember me
Signup
Our app is now available!
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
##LOC[Cancel]##
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
##LOC[Cancel]##
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
##LOC[Cancel]##
{1}
##LOC[OK]##
##LOC[Cancel]##