Ascunce with his new weathervane.
Looking around our backyard, one would think that I have an abnormal obsession with what direction the wind is coming from.
Until recently, we had three weathervanes, one on top of the garage, one on top of the shed, and one in the wife’s perennial garden.
When I suggested that we needed another weathervane on top of the gazebo, the wife pushed back.
“Honey,” the wife said to me as I was calculating the wind direction. “Why do you care so much about what direction the wind comes from? There is absolutely nothing you can do about it. The wind just is.”
“Thank you for that complicated insight into meteorology, Dear,” I said. “I am completely flummoxed by your understanding of one of the greatest powers on earth. The wind just is… That’s brilliant. Let me write that down.”
“I don’t appreciate your brand of sarcasm, Mister! I was stating a fact, that regardless of how many weathervanes we have, the wind will blow from wherever it wants.”
Well imagine my surprise last Christmas when I opened a rather large gift from the wife and it turned out to be a weathervane. It was a gold-colored sperm whale on a decorative black spindle with directional markers.
“Oh Honey! This is amazing!” I said all excited. “You got me a golden sperm whale!”
“It’s just a whale,” the wife said.
“No, it’s not. It’s a very specific type of whale, a sperm whale. It’s known for its large head and small lower jaw. It has the largest brain of any animal on the planet! How cool is that? It’s definitely a sperm whale.”
“Stop saying that!” the wife shushed. “There are children in the room.”
“But that’s the name of the whale you gave me. Just like a blue whale, a humpback whale, a killer whale, a right whale, this one’s a sp….”
“STOP! It’s just a whale!”
“Fine! Anyway, I absolutely love my golden whale and can’t wait to install it on top of our gazebo. Thank you so much, Dear, for this wonderful gift!”
Well, it’s been a while since Christmas, but on an unusually warm 70 degree day, I decided to install my new weathervane.
“Today’s the day, Hon! I am going to put my new weathervane on top of the cupola on the gazebo.”
“I don’t know, Dear,” the wife said all concerned. “I think we should hire a handyman to install it.”
“Are you kidding me? I have installed every other weathervane on this property, and I am going to install this one too,” I insisted.
Later that morning, when the ladders were up and the tools in place, I climbed up on the roof of the gazebo. “DANG! This is a lot higher than a I thought. The air’s a little thin up here…feeling dizzy…hyperventilating.”
“SIT DOWN NOW!” the wife shouted. “The last thing I need is for you to fall and impale yourself on a weathervane.”
“I can see my obit now. It reads, “Local resident killed by a sperm whale in his own back yard.”
“It’s just a whale!” the wife insisted.
After a few hours of up and down ladders for just the right tool, the weathervane was installed. As I dropped the golden whale onto its decorative rod, I yelled, “Thar she blows!!! In a moderate westerly breeze at about 10-15 miles an hour.”
About that time a neighbor stopped by and said, “Nice sperm whale.”
“It’s just a whale!” the wife said and went inside.
Raul Ascunce is a freelance columnist for the Sentinel-Tribune. He may be contacted at [email protected].
