 |
| Ah, sunset. The end of another great day. |
The
pale tones of dusk - mauve, light pink and pale orange – are
shouldered aside by the setting sun. A blaze of deep orange, red and
purple colour the western sky as another great day is coming to a
close. I pour two glasses of our favourite white wine and ask Lawrie
to join me on the upper street-side deck for a sunset drink.
“Be
right there! I just have one small job I want to finish,” he
hollers back. Okay,
no worries.
I put his glass of wine back in the refrigerator head up to the
deck. Peace!
 |
| Concrete pumper truck arrives |
And
then it starts.
Across
the street a concrete truck and a concrete pumper truck pull into in
the seldom-used school basketball court. Several months ago the
local government in conjunction with school administrators decided
the basketball court needed a covered dome, and now the construction
has started. Two sets of air brakes sigh, the hydraulic mechanism
starts up as the pumper truck extends its four-sectioned boom out
over the length of the basketball court. Nope. Too great a distance
to be efficient. The operator retracts the pumping mechanism and
moves the truck closer. Okay, let's try again. More noise and shouts
as the crew positions the pump's spout and begin spewing concrete
into numerous foundation forms.
 |
| Municipal worker removing loose wire |
A
few minutes later a municipal bucket-truck stops outside our house,
reverses backwards into the thick traffic to stop mid-lane while a
worker removes a low-hanging wire; all the while the truck's reverse
alarm is incessantly bleating.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Our road is
currently extra busy with traffic because it is the only route open
to drive from one end of the island to the other. The road on
western side of the island is closed for two or maybe three months,
more or less, for re-paving.
 |
| But, mom, these are my favourite sandals |
While
the municipal truck has nearly blocked the north-bound lane, a woman
driving her two children on a moto suddenly stopped in the
south-bound lane. Her young son had lost his sandal. Now the
non-stop traffic weaves and dodges around a small boy, the back end
of the moto, and the stopped municipal truck.
 |
| "Be right there, I just have one small job to finish." |
But
wait, there's more. My handyman husband fires up his hand-held
grinder, preparing to clean rust and corrosion from our gas stove
burners.
Sparks fly. Particles of old paint and rust floats
upwards, settling in my lovely glass of chilled white wine.
 |
| Street busy with dump trucks. |
The
last assault on my peaceful sunset enjoyment comes in the form of a
large beaten-up dump truck, that rumbles past with a cheeky blast of
his Jake brake, the engine retarder, producing a loud unnecessary
blast of noise that is the equivalent of a middle finger salute.
Eventually
everything quietened down. The municipal workers removed the fallen
wire, the young boy retrieved his sandal, the traffic thinned out,
and across the street in the basketball court the construction
workers finished up for the night.
 |
| Busy working on the foundations for the new dome roof. |
Even
Lawrie eventually finished his noisy repairs and joined me with his
glass of wine, but by then the sun was tucked away in bed for the
night.
Tomorrow
there will probably be another colourful Caribbean sunset. We'll
try again to enjoy our peaceful, end of the day, ritual.
Hasta
Luego
Lawrie
& Lynda
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