Hello folks and welcome to
Tuesday, October 6, 2015. Last Saturday morning I dragged a chair out into the yard before daybreak and sat there with a steaming hot cup of Community observing the start of another day. It was around 58 degrees and felt absolutely wonderful. (I could have easily enjoyed much cooler temps but we've all learned to take what we can get and be satisfied.) As I sat there looking up at the trees with the light behind them it reminded me of days long gone when my grandfather and us boys would be getting ready to hit the woods for some squirrel hunting. That's right. Those little lovable varmints. We found them. Shot and killed them. Skinned them. And, yes, we fried them up and ate them. Nowadays we mostly practice our near wrecking skills trying to avoid hitting them on the road. People actually smash up their car to keep from hitting a squirrel. Have we gone mad, or what? Back to my story. Well, my granddad would make us some breakfast of eggs, fried cat squirrel with gravy, and biscuits he had baked on the camp fire. We had some butter and syrup and boiled coffee or milk out of a thermos jug. We would eat it up. In fact, to us, there was nothing quite like it. Cool, crisp morning, the getting ready to get ready, and all of the above, it made for memories that all played again as I sat out there in my chair listening as the birds began to sound their morning wake up calls. What's that? You think I may have worn out that memory lane walkway? I wouldn't doubt that but if it's okay with you I'm going to keep on traveling on it anyway.
I am well aware that our little forays into the woods were not always idyllic. Sleeping in the back of the old pickup truck wrapped up in ragged homemade quilts dripping wet from the early morning dew was not all that pleasant. It sure made jumping up and going to stand up against that campfire nice. I know there's the inclination to leave out the less than wonderful parts when we are skipping down that lane that exists in our mind. I tend to try to remember it all, the good, the not so good, and the really bad stuff too. Here's the way I typically end up. The good stuff far out weighs the other. I've found that if you tell a story from the past there's typically someone who will want to rain on your parade. They will want to point out a flaw or an issue from those recollections. All I can say is if that's all they can remember from the past, I do pity them. Don't get me wrong. They are entitled to conjure it up as they see fit, however, even knowing a lot of the bad stuff, all I can conclude is how blessed I am to have had the events that now allow me to revisit them early on a somewhat cooler Saturday morning. Just serving up a little rambling here folks. Nothing more. Nothing less.
How did it all turn out? Reality came calling. It wasn't long until the cars were passing by and the dogs barking and even the garbage truck could be heard off in the distance. I told the wife the birds were particularly loud that morning. Once they got warmed up they really got with it. Maybe they were doing their own version of The Voice and they were competing to see who would make it into the next round. Sunday morning I was at the Church property real early and doing a similar thing. I was outside with my cup of Community and I noticed one particular tall skinny fir looking tree with about a dozen tiny birds all ganged up on top of it. The skinny tree was swaying forth and back from all the birds flitting here and there. Suddenly they all took off at the same time like they had heard an alarm. I mean they were in a hurry. About that time I saw a red hawk circling high above. I don't know if it was a real threat but I did understand why the entire congregation thought out of an abundance of caution it would be a good time to dismiss their little gathering. As you can tell I did enjoy the cooler weather. And the birds, and the memories. Take care and may God bless us all is my prayer.
Amen. .....More later.
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