Mr. Hopkins sometimes waited a while to make up his mind. He had the ability to wait patiently until the mustard seed informed him the universe was in agreement with a movement or an action he was considering.
At some point between 1966-1969, the lady with the volkswagen who rented a small cottage began experiencing plumbing problems and backups and had regularly reported these difficulties and inconveniences to Mr. John Hopkins, who was landlord.
As a consequence, Charles, the estate's handyman, was often a visitor to the cottage during that period, as the plumbing difficulties seemed to have no solution nor was the cause easily discernible in any way.
Which is why I was not surprised one morning to discover Mr. Hopkins and Charles slowly wending their way down from the mansion with Mr. Hopkins holding his pendant with the mustard seed.
"Oh, they're on their way to fix that problem with the shower," I said to myself as I waved hello.
Nor was I at all surprised to eventually find a huge hole dug on the grounds between the mansion and the cottage, where I'd seen the landlord walking with his handy man.
Well, actually, I had been surprised to find that hole. Because previously, before the hole appeared (and again suddenly, within a day, as if by magic), one evening I had begun walking up the hill with the idea of looking at the panorama of city lights from a viewpoint.
The woods were strange that night, and there was a bit of wind kicking up, and I tried to push up along the small trail and ignore the strange sensations I was feeling (which if I were put into words would be, "Go back! Go back!").
I simply decided the weather had suddenly turned too inclement and the evening too dark to continue my simple walk up the hill and so I returned to my own place.
The next day, when I mentioned this event to the lady with the volkswagen, when we were beginning to talk in general about how strange the vibes had become around the estate over past the day or so, she sat up suddenly in her chair and said, "When? What? Mr. Hopkins said the saucers were visiting here last night!!!"
And, truthfully, I didn't know what to make of a statement like that.
So sometimes I'd give the mansion a funny look and tip toe far around the edges as I came down from where we were obliged to park at the edges of the road far above.
I would often arrive rather late at night, or actually very early in the morning. And I'd wind my way through the darkened grounds and usually could find my way even in the dark when it was clouded over because I had a small flashlight. But on this particular evening the batteries gave out so I'd put the flashlight away in my pocket to have two hands free to better grope my way through the dark. In the dark sometimes, even though I knew the paths, I could sometimes go astray and get a bit turned around. As I was indeed doing, that evening in 1969.
As I walked, I sometimes was forced into longer strides and gained unexpected momentum, propelled a bit too fast due to the incline. Because of a bit of a skid I had gone into and because I had bumped up against a tree trunk, I knew I was off the path and turned around.
I was pushing small branches apart and out of my way, stepping back and trying to peer through them to better see what I hoped would be the outlines of the path, when my gaze went towards the shadowy outline of a large hump of dirt, one that was newly appeared in the once familiar geography ... which in the dim light and because of my recent loss of balance and growing apprehension seemed to be escalating from unusual to weird if not slightly strange.
At nearly that precise moment, when my perception was shifting from "unusual" to "weird", I saw a flash of light coming from somewhere inside the mound. After what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, as time was nearly as frozen as I had been immobilized by wonder, there was another flash of light.
And I confess I couldn't help but think of all that flying saucer business, the orbs darted into my mind and flew about, and the outlines of the mound, which had once seemed merely an unusual silhouette in the dim light could now be regarded as the outlines of a crater of some kind.
So I crept forward slowly, inching my way step by step as it was dark and I didn't want to so much as brush a twig or make a noise in any way. Holding on to a small sapling to steady myself and gathering courage to move on in the dark, towards the blink! (long pause) blink! And my heart was nearly in my mouth when I peered over the edge and saw a construction horse with a blinker still going, which must have toppled into the hole when the edge had collapsed a bit.
I stared into the large hole, and said to myself, "So that's all it is." And I decided that Mr. Hopkins and Charles had begun work to fix the plumbing problem in the cottage and that's why they'd been walking with the mustard seed.
Days would elapse and I later encountered the lady who lived in the cottage, and I would say, "I guess they're fixing the plumbing" and mention the big hole, which was still there, though changing course day by day, as if they were trying to find a hidden sewer line.
She'd laugh and say, "Oh no. Mr. Hopkins said Charles is digging to find the hidden Filipino gold."
I would sit there stunned and my first response would be utter disblief: "That's ridiculous!" I'd think to myself, and then I'd wonder in spite of myself, "Where'd they get that crazy idea?"
And another day on the estate would continue.
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