No Place Like Home - My Column from Sunday's Paper

We got around early this morning and walked before the sun got up above the trees. Even without the sun, the morning was already hot and the humidity hung on our skin like a wet kiss from one of our big ol' goofy dogs. 


When we got back in, we did a quick spruce-up in the house because we'd invited our friends over for dinner. Jilda stepped down to her flower garden and cut some daisies, black-eye Susan's, some old maids, and a few gardenias for an arrangement on the table and in the guest bathroom. 


That evening a thunder storm slammed its way down from the north and rattled the china in our cupboard. All the dogs tried to get in our laps. 


As I've mentioned before, we have some BIG dogs. Even though they are big, they are all big wusses when it comes to thunder – all except for Taylor. She's the bulldog mix that weighs more than our Frigidaire, and she wouldn't be afraid of Satan on a mean drunk. 


When the rain came, it was falling so hard it looked like a heavy fog out in the fields and I could barely see the apple tree. 


Thankfully, the deluge slacked enough for our company to run inside, before it commenced again. After hours of sun as hot as a coal stove, the plants seemed to be dancing in the rain. 


We visited with our friends for a while, and played some music on the old guitars before dinner. Jilda had cooked baked chicken, broasted potato's, and lima beans. For dessert we had blackberry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream. 


For a long time all you could hear from the dining room was grunting. My spouse is one fine cook and she can silence even the rowdiest crowd with her cooking.

Four deer came up in the garden and put on a show while we ate. Two of the deer are young and they played a game of freeze tag. I love it when the do that.

The deer show does come at a price. This spring they ate our peas and beans faster than we could plant them, but all good entertainment comes at a price.

After dinner we sat around and "talked until our tongues got tired" (as Dan Fogelberg once sang).

When our friends left, I helped Jilda clean up the kitchen and we sat out on the screen porch. The rain had moved off to the east, but you could still hear the ticking of rain drops falling off oak leaves onto our metal roof. It almost put me to sleep. 


The sun had already dipped below the horizon, but there was enough lingering light to paint the sky a color of pink/purple that I can find no words to describe. 


I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture, but no camera can do justice to an evening sky. 

There really is no place like home, especially on days like today. You could spend a fortune and travel halfway around the world and not have as good a time as I've had today, right here at home.