Problem solved

I had errands in Jasper today. It's the county seat. Also, the newspaper office is in Jasper. We had an editorial meeting. Everyone talked through their stories in the works. We also talked about anyone having time off in August.

As it turns out, I raised my hand. I'm having knee replacement surgery toward the end of the month. I'm excited. Wait, let me take a handkerchief and wipe the sarcasm off that last sentence.

After the meeting, I had several errands. The first stop was the bank. After that, was a run by the feed store. The birds and dogs need  a'feedin'. When I left out of the bank on my usual route, a city crew had the street blocked. Detour signs pointed to a new way.

The homes on this back street were incredible. Rolling lawns. Rock gardens, and ivy green driveways on both sides of the streets. Homes built with old stone. Deep pockets. Old money.

Tonight I was struggling to come up with a topic. I did what I always do - I looked through all my pictures on Google Photo. I came across the picture below that I shot two years ago today. I took it in Florence, Al. It was taken at an old farm. A doctor owned it. It was as manicured as an exclusive golf course.

When I saw it today, it reminded me of my detour today. Writer's block problem solved.

Customer Service ~ my column from Sunday's paper

A few years ago, one of the buttons came off of a polo shirt that I’d had for years. I asked Jilda if she could sew one back on. She didn’t have a matching button, but she’d bought the shirt from an L.L. Bean catalog. She called their support line and asked for a replacement button. A few days later, a new shirt arrived in the mail. Jilda called and told the lady we hadn’t expected a new shirt. The woman said that L.L Bean stands behind what they sell. 

I love it when people say what they do and then do what they say. Jilda and I try to buy from companies that have the same philosophy.  Although they aren’t always the cheapest option, we’ve learned that it pays in the long run. That lesson was reinforced this past week.

A few years ago, Jilda bought me a watch for Christmas. It was simple with a leather band. She chose it from L.L. Bean’s Christmas catalog. I fell in love with my new timepiece the instant I opened it.

A few weeks ago, I put it on my arm and hit the road. Glancing at my watch a while later, it read 11:32. An early morning fog was hanging low on the Warrior river so I knew there was no way it was already 11:32. I reflexively shook my arm. For some reason, I do that even though shaking has never brought a watch with a dead battery back to life. I looked at the second hand hopefully, but it didn’t budge. 

Once home, I pulled out my watch kit. Jilda has about 20 watches she’s bought through the years, and at any given time one of them needs a new battery. 

Opening the back of the L.L. Bean watch, I flipped out the old battery with my thumbnail. Taking a small probe, I gently pulled back a keeper pin to seat the new battery. But, when I tried to put the pin back in place, it popped off.  Popping pins are rarely a good thing.  Even with the new battery in place, the watch would not tick.

I’d kept the original box in my dresser drawer and when I opened it a slip of paper fell from inside. The directions said that when the battery needs replacing to return it to L.L. Bean. For $8, their craftsmen would replace the battery and return the watch. I wished I’d remembered that before trying it myself.

Packing the watch up, I sent it back with a note saying if the cost was more, let me know, and I’d pay the difference. 

A few days later, I got a call from L.L. Bean. The watch repairman said they received the watch, but one of the pins inside was broken. He asked me if I’d tried to replace the battery. I could have fibbed, but fibbing rarely turns out well so I “fessed up.”

He said the broken pin made the watch unrepairable. He could hear the disappointment in my voice. I told him it was a Christmas gift from my wife. I told him to mail it back to me, and I’d keep it in my souvenir box.

I could hear him clicking through our file on his computer. He said, “You and your wife have been customers for a long time. I tell you what I’m going to do, I’m going to replace this watch.” He didn’t pass the buck or put me on hold to ask permission from a supervisor. He made the decision to treat an old customer right even though the fault was clearly mine.  

Some companies say they stand behind their products, but L.L. Bean put action behind their words. 

Next year

We could be charged with garden neglect this year. We have no defense. One look at our garden and any garden detective would ask, "When's the last time those tomatoes were weeded?"
A, I'm not sure officer. "Shut up slacker. I see the answer in the knee-high grass around the roots."

"What about these peppers?"

Well, it was my intention......

"The road to HELL is paved with good intentions, SLACKER!!!"

"These poor zinnias. Well, actually that grass growing around the zinnias is a variety that butterflies love, so I'll no write you up on those."

This has been a crazy summer. It rained and then turned into Hades. It's been hectic. Even though our garden has been neglected, it keeps baring.

If I took a picture of the tomatoes, herbs, and other plants we have in planters, they would tell a different story.

I said all this to say, next year, we plan to do raised bed gardens.

State champs

We headed out early this morning to catch our great nephew Jordan's swimming match in Birmingham. We were heading to COSTCO afterward, but this match was a big deal. Jordan's been training for this since swim season ended last year.

He's been to swim camps and has practiced three days a week with his swim coach without fail. The local high school in Jasper wants him to attend there.

During the swim camp at my Birmingham Southern, my old alma mater, one of the people over scholarships at the school expressed interest in Jordan. She asked about his swimming, about his grades, and she talked to him about the facility at Birmingham Southern, He turned 10 in January.
I couldn't spell college when I was 10.

We arrived at Birmingham Sportsplex about 30 minutes early and sat by his nanna while he warmed up.

The swim-a-torum was PACKED and it was toasty in there. They keep it warm for the kids, but when you get that many people THAT close together, you're glad you showered and put on deodorant before you left home.

His first race and the only one we could stay for was a four boy freestyle relay. When the whistle blew, the first boy dove off the blocks and the race was on. Teams from all over the state were competing in the race. The noise level approached the level made by an F-111 at takeoff.

The second boy launched off the blocks and he held his own. Jordan was the third and he hit the water like a dart. He made up time, but his team was still trailing when he tagged the wall launching the fourth boy. He was tied for second place when he hit the water but I think I saw smoke on the water behind this kid. He tagged the wall a full second before the other two finished.

Jordan's team are state champs. I don't remember screaming, but I'm hoarse tonight. When I looked at Jilda and Jordan's mom Samantha, we all three had tears of joy on our faces.

We are so proud of our young'un.

Hello butterfly

We left our lettuce to go to seed in a small tray on our back deck. It was almost ready to harvest this week when I noticed some of the leaves were gone.

Looking more closely, I realized it was filled with worms. They looked like a smaller cousin to the ones that eat tomatoes. But they were different.

We had a similar problem last year. Catching them early in their feeding frenzy, I smited them smartly. After I'd cleaned house, I Googled the critters to see what kind they were.

As it turns out, they were monarch butterfly caterpillars. Had I left them along, we would have had even more butterflies in our yard. It made me sad that I didn't realize this before it was too late.

But this year, I knew better so I let them eat the lettuce. When they'd eaten all the lettuce, I moved the tray down to the ground under our butterfly bush. We read that they like those bushes too. We weren't excited but them eating our beloved butterfly bush, but taking the long view, it was a small price to pay.

The only thing, I've checked every day since I moved them and they aren't in the bush. I figured the birds had eaten them. This morning I snapped a picture of our blazing star which is nearby. I didn't notice them at the time, but just now when I enlarged the picture to post, I noticed my friends on this bush. If you look closely, you can see them too.

Hello, butterfly.

When I got home this evening, I had a private message from the Tiara Lady. I copied and pasted it here:

Marlene: Did you see that Wal-Mart President and CEO tagged me a message? I'm so excited and ty for doing the article.

Rick: Wow! That's incredible. I loved the interview. It's been shared 810 times so far on Facebook. You're a rockstar.

It's taken on a life of its own. I'm so happy this lady is getting a little recognition.

Looks like snow

While sipping coffee this morning, Jilda scanned her email.  One of the missives was from the Famer's Almanac. The headline read, "Fluffy white clouds against a blue sky on July 25, means snow in the coming winter.

Jilda sqealed. Did I mention that she loves snow? Of course, the snow here is normally not like the snow up north. A few years ago we woke up to one morning and watched the snow falling outside out great room windows.  By afternoon, a front moved through and it was almost warm enough to swim. Every now and then a snow will linger for a few days before the sun sends the white stuff to the creeks and rivers.

The only snow that remained on the ground more than a few days was in 1993. The snow was the deepest I'd ever seen here. The temps plummeted and it remained frigid for over a week. We lost power, and phone service. Toward the end of the week, we lost water because it takes power to pump water into the supply tanks. 

Our home was total electric then. A total electric home sounded so appealing. When we built our home, we thought total electric was a PLUS. After a week of looking like homeless people in our home, we decided to go to plan "B". 

When the snow melted, we drove to the nearest propane gas dealership and bought space heaters and a gas fireplace. We bought a new gas grill. We also bought a gas BBQ grill for the backyard. Winter's have been more pleasant since then.

Now, where was I......? Oh yes, fluffy clouds and a blue sky.

Jilda did babysitting duty while I went for my pre-knee replacement pep talk with the surgeon. When I walked outside, I was struck by the sky. Smiling, I pulled the phone from my pocket and snapped a few pictures. 

I sent one to Jilda with the caption: Looks like snow.

On the road again

I'm road-weary this evening. The interviews I'd been trying to schedule for weeks all came together...today.

It's been so hard scheduling them that I didn't want to try to find time on our calendars to reschedule, so I put my big boy panties on and hit the road.

There was a city council meeting at 9 that turned out to be a non-event because they didn't have a quorum. They had sick folks and others who were vacating. 

After this, I got an update from the chief on a young man that's been missing since February. 

The local library had a fun day that was the finale of the summer reading program for kids. There were about 50 kids in the park swing, climbing, and wooshing down a water slide. The smiles almost broke the lens on my camera.

Next was an interview with a man who's documented all the cemeteries in the county. The county is fairly small as counties go, but he's documented 343 cemeteries here so far. Some of them predate the Civil War.  We stood on the hill at Davis Cemetery. There was a shady spot that was about 15 feet from where my parents are buried. We sat on the tailgate of my truck and talked for over an hour about cemeteries. He looked around and pointed off into the distance and said, "There's a story in every grave." 

The last interview was with a woman that works with the Girls Rock program. They take about 30 girls between the ages of 9-16 and teach them to play an instrument. They learn to play drums, guitar, bass, or keyboard. They also write a song that they perform at the end of the week. 

The finale is a showcase at a local venue. The girls get full makeup, new hairstyles if they want them, and the works. When they walk out onto that stage, they are rockstars.

One young girl told this woman a few years ago after she completed a week of rockschool, that the program had saved her life. That put chills on my arm.

So, today has been a great day. I do need to take these interviews and write stories.

One of my features ran this morning. The link below will take you to the short piece on the Taira Lady who is a greeter at Walmart. So far, it's been shared 367 times. There's an icon at the bottom that will allow you to share it on Facebook. If you would like to spread some good news instead of doom and gloom, it would do my heart good :)

Taira Lady

Time for a swimming pool? ~ My column from Sunday's paper

I never think seriously about owning a swimming pool until deep summer.

Jilda has wanted one since we married in 1974. Each summer she does a mock whine, “Why don’t we get a pool?”

I always thought pools were more trouble than they were worth. It was easy coming up with a litany of reasons why a pool was a bad idea. It will make our power bill skyrocket, they are hard to keep clean, they’re a pain to maintain in winter, and so on. But in late July when it’s hot enough to bake biscuits in the dash pocket of my truck, my resistance wilts.

I’m not sure why I’ve remained so resistant to the idea. Thinking back, I’ve always loved the water. I learned to swim during the summer between first- and second- grade. The Martin Hole was a wide spot in a gently flowing creek that ran through the heart of Sloss Hollow. The Martin family had lived nearby in the early 1900s.

Even today, when looking on Google Maps, you can see where the stream originates. It’s not coming from a lake or larger stream, but from deep within the earth under the canopy of oak, hickory, and pine, somewhere between Dora and old Highway 78.

The Martin Hole was about a half mile from my front porch. When it got too hot to run and rip outside, “the crew” would head to the swimming hole to cool off. I’ve never dipped a thermometer in that creek, but I’d be willing to venture it’s about 60 degrees year around.

Everyone went commando then, which meant we wore cutoff jeans and little else. We didn’t have to change into a swimsuit because we were wearing it.

The creek was about waist deep, and the bottom was covered in a layer of rocks worn smooth by eons of water flowing over them.

Moss-covered logs jutted out over the edge of the water on the far bank. They looked as if Mother Nature had upholstered them in green velvet. They were big enough to stand on, but I learned the hard way the creek was not deep enough for diving. I tried it one time, and I pulled gravel out of my scalp for days afterward. Every day’s a school day.

Edging the creek were ferns, honeysuckle, and a kind of vegetation that I cannot name. Dragonflies thrived in this environment. Once while floating on my back, a neon blue dragonfly lit on my nose and looked me in the eye for an instant before flitting off. In China, people associate the dragonfly with prosperity, harmony, and as a good luck charm. I chose to believe that this was true.

I spent a lot of time during the summers of my youth in that creek. It was a gurgling Dog Days oasis.

Fast forward to this week ...

While pulling the weeds from around our tomato and pepper plants yesterday, sweat soaked my T-shirt and dripped from the brim of my hat. Once back in the house, I fixed a tall glass of ice water and sat in front of the box fan.

I thought to myself, “Maybe it’s time to think about a swimming pool."

What more could one ask for?

Did I mention that the performance we attended last night was HOT. We arrived at 6:30 p.m. to eat before the show. We thought we were early for the show that started at 8 but we learned we were late.

The place was packed. The stage is under an outside pavilion. That was full. We got a table with under a tent that was adjacent to the stage. They had chicken fans blowing from each corner, but the sun had not set and the table where we sat was not shaded. We had to tough it out for about 30 minutes before the sun dipped low enough to give the chicken fans a chance.

The two ladies who'd let us sit with them got a better offer for a table in front of the stage so we told the waitress that if they had people looking for a place to sit they could join us. Four people were there within minutes. A young man and his young daughter were the first, and then a couple of newlyweds on their second go-around at love arrived a few moments later.  We had a quorum.

A girl about seven years old had been sitting at the table behind us came up when she noticed the young lady at our table. They were the same age and became instant friends. In fact, they made it their mission to keep us cool.

The picture below was taken in harsh light. I exposed the pictures for the colors in the fan, but I had to tweak the exposure so that you could get a glimpse of an angelic face.

Had we chosen to sit alone, we would have sat simmering alone. As it is, we had our own personal air conditioners. What more could one ask for?

Music Saturday

We went to hear music tonight. The Muscle Shoals area is a magical place. Go into most any restaurant, bar, coffee house, or theater in the area during Handy Festival week and you'll hear musicians that you've heard all your life.

Jilda did an update on her blog about coming so I won't bore you.

I did want to do an update on Cailou the wonder dog. If you recall, he got what the groomer called a summer cut back in May. I called it a scalping. His hair is finally coming back out. He should be back to his old self by fall.

He's actually done much better with the heat this summer but I'm still not sure I'll get him scalped again.

I hope your Saturday was a good one too.

It doesn't take long to make toast

We had a gig scheduled for tonight. I'm not sure why, but Jilda and I both felt uneasy about it. I know most people think we're all New-Agey and what not, but that's the way we roll. If something doesn't "feel" right we move on.

This morning, the weatherman was forecasting severe weather this evening. We watched the feeds until 10 a.m. and then made a management decision to reschedule the gig. The owner of the coffee house was OK with it and we let our songwriter buddies know.

As it turns out, the weather still looks bad, but it's arriving later than the weather-folk said it would. But here's the deal - I still think we made the right decision to reschedule. 


Rewind to this morning during our walk. It was oppressive even at 8:15 a.m. One the first lap, I saw this oak limb lying in the middle of the barn road. Squirrels do this in the summer with oak and hickory trees. I guess they are keeping their teeth maintained.

I wasn't there the day before but already it was a dry as thatch. It doesn't take long to make toast in this weather.

Working toward world peace

I spent most of the day in the cab of my truck. I had an interview with a beekeeper north of Birmingham. Way north.

The community was a new one to me. I turned onto the street as my GPS directed and I drove to what I thought was the last house. The person living in the house came out and said, you're looking for Bob. He pointed further in the direction that I'd been heading.

I drove through a gate and the road turned to gravel. In the middle of the field was a house trailer. Out beyond the trailer were beehives.

Pulling in, I pulled my camera and the tape recorder from my bags and knocked on the door.

I spent the next 90 minutes hearing about how this gentleman was working toward world peace.

He does have bees, but his main focus is inventing devices that can kill the various mites and parasites that threaten the survival of bees.

I've read it before, but he echoed what I've learned about bees. And that is that bees pollinate fruits, vegetables, and nuts around the planet. If we don't help bees survive, much of our fresh foods will be in danger. If we can't produce enough food to feed our people, the hungry will rise up. Thus his contention that he's working toward world peace. I'll write this story over the coming days.

I took the picture below when I stopped to eat on the way home. The restaurant had these hydrangeas and grass growing in one of their beds. I thought it would make a good picture.

Too hot for pestilence

We planted our sunflowers late. Then came the heat and rain. We waited for locusts and pestilence, but luckily they have not arrived. Perhaps the heat and humidity are too much. The locusts figured they could get a better deal in Georgia or maybe North Carolina.

I'm guessing it's hot and wet there too.

One thing that did arrive today was our first sunflower blossom.

As I get older

I came across a photo op yesterday. A poison ivy leaf had fallen onto a bed of moss in the barnyard.

The recent rains had turned the dull green moss into little pieces of velvet carpet under the oak and hickory.

The poison ivy leads the pack in color. They start mid-summer with a few leaves get a headstart turning crimson before the others follow in September and October.  

Mother Nature's ebb and flow are easy to overlook.  It wasn't until my 5th decade that I began to notice things that had long escaped me. 

I'm looking forward to this improving insight as I get older.

Fly Fishing Fever ~ my column from Sunday's paper

I caught a bug when I was in Telluride, Colorado several years ago. It’s rarely fatal, but I’ve found it’s incurable. Professionals call it “fly fishing fever.” 

Jilda and I were surprised when our friend Wes and his wife Deidra asked us to spend the first week of July in the Mountains. But it was hotter than Satan’s sauna here in Empire, and we both feared that if we didn’t get away, we’d melt like a candle on asphalt in August. 

So, when our friend offered us free room and board for a week, we jumped at the chance. I wasn’t sure what to pack for the trip, but I put long-sleeved shirts, and blue jeans in my bag. 

Soon, we were winging our way over Mississippi, Oklahoma, and Kansas before touching down in Denver. From there we took a crop duster to Durango, Co and a shuttle picked us up at the airport and drove us the last few hours to the resort.

The mountain air was thin but much cooler. It made me feel taller. 

Our friends had several things on the agenda for the week. The next day was the 4th of July. We ate ourselves silly, watched a parade, and that evening we went to a fireworks show in the park. 

Watching the fireworks explode against a backdrop of the Rocky Mountains is a sight I will never forget. While standing there in the park, it started snowing. It was only a few flurries, but enough for me to catch flakes on my tongue. 

The next morning, Jilda, Deidra, and their girls headed to the spa while Wes and I headed for the water. He’d hired a local fly-fishing guide to take us fishing. It was cool that morning. We stood on the

water’s edge listening to the guide’s safety briefing. My breath came out in clouds. As I looked around at the water, and the mountains in the distance, I thought to myself, “I could get used to this.”

I thought I knew how to use a flyrod, but I spent the first half hour untangling my line and fetching flies from nearby bushes. 

There’s an art to casting a lure which weighs less than a sneeze. It took a while to get the hang of it, but I soon fell into the rhythm. After a few hours, I could put a fly almost anywhere I wanted in the range of my fly line. 

The fish were a little slow to come to the fly, but as I’ve said before, fly fishing is not about the fish. I got several strikes, but my timing was wrong when I tried setting the tiny hook. I learned that there’s an art to that too. 

We ate a sack lunch as we changed locations. Coming to an old farm, we parked near a pond fed by a cold mountain stream. The first cast, I caught a rainbow trout. It wasn’t a big fish, but in retrospect, I realize that’s where I caught the “fly fishing fever.” 

Sadness at the Forks

 I took this picture on June 9. As always, I pulled in one evening after I finished an interview in Birmingham. The guys were sitting there shooting the bull with fishermen as they came into the loading ramp after a day of fishing.

I sat with them for a long while watching the water. The mallards that took up residence here squawked around looking for bits of food or bait discarded by the incoming boats. Even with the distant drone of outboard motors heading in, it's peaceful at the Forks.

When I left I told them I wanted to interview each of them the next time I came down for a story. As always I got some serious responses and a boatload of grief :) I love those guys.

Then one day last week, Jilda was reading the obits and exclaimed Kenneth Suchey died! I had her read it again and then read it for myself. It was true. One of my buddies at the Fork had died.

When I talked to Leo, who is the unofficial mayor, he told me the story. He said that Kenneth started having problems breathing a few weeks. ago.  He went to the doctor and learned that he had lung cancer. One week later, he died.

I'd known Kenneth for most of my life. I saw him pitch in a semi-professional baseball game when I was in junior high school. It was a playoff game. That night the batters could not have hit his pitches had they used a boat paddle. He was in the zone.

He was a kind-hearted man who was quick to smile and slow to anger.

I haven't had the heart to stop at the Forks in the evening since.

Kenneth is second from the right in the picture below. He will be missed.

Kayak race

I was out early this morning. The Sipsey Heritage Commission held their 2nd Annual Kayak on the Sipsey race. I told the editor I don't normally work on Saturdays, but this is my place.

A few hundred feet north of where I took this picture is where I fly fish. The river winds 12 miles through unmolested land.

When I arrived, I took pictures of the kayakers getting ready for the race. There was a VW bus there that had been converted into a camper. Apparently, at least one boater didn't want to be late.

I shot about 50 pictures for the paper. I think they are putting together a picture page for tomorrow but I'm not sure. I'll know along with everyone else when I open my paper as I sip coffee.

The winner stood and used the kayak as a paddleboard. He shot out from under the bridge, which was the starting point, and he never looked back. He did 12 miles in about an hour and 45 minutes. This wasn't his first kayak rodeo.

The temps were sweltering, but the water was 52 degrees. Standing next to it felt as if I were standing in front of an air conditioner.

Below is a photograph I shot from the bridge over the water.  It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Somewhere where it's cooler

It was hot enough to bake a biscuit in the dash pocket of my truck today. Jilda works at a place where they have people coming in from other parts of the country. When these visitors come in the spring or autumn, they fall in love with the area. 

The ones that stay until July and August usually say, "How the hell can you people live here??????"

We take it one day at a time. We exercise early before the sun comes up and we take it easy when the temp spikes after lunch.

Tonight as I was looking for a picture to post, I came across this one that Jilda took of me a few years ago when we were in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in October. 

The first day the sun was out and we woke up the next day to snow. I would never wish my life away, but looking at this picture makes me think we should summer somewhere where it's cooler.

.

Lunar Eclipse

There's a lunar eclipse in our future. Some folks are non-chalant about this, but Jilda and I celebrate celestual events.

We prepared for the last solar eclipse weeks in advance. We bought special glasses and had an eclipse celebration. Our great nephew Jordan was here to experience it with us.

We've instilled the excitement of these events in him and he's excited about the upcoming eclipse too.

I now have a much better camera than I had the last time so I hope to capture some pictures to share.

If you live in much of Europe, much of Asia, Australia, Africa, South in North America, South America, Pacific, Atlantic, Indian Ocean, and Antarctica could see at least part of the eclipse.

I think we'll crank up the firepit and do s'mores while we enjoy the show. Do they make lunar eclipse glasses?

This is not an eclipse but it's the only picture I'd taken that I  could find of a full moon. 

A place of honor

Ol' Hook has made every step I've made today. I'm not sure why some days he doesn't want to be in the same zip code and other days he wants on my lap. All 90 pounds of him. Today he's been a lap dog.

I hauled my computer bag out to the screen porch after coffee. Actually, I took my last cup with me as I wrote my column for Sunday's paper. Hook had been snoozing on his bed by the front windows, but when he realized I was no longer on the couch, he came in pursuit.

The door was closed to keep the bought air from escaping, but he started barking for me to let him out. He is persistant. I could ignore him for a while, but I've learned that he will not stop.

The ceiling fan silently whurred overhead, which made it comfortable for me, but it was warm for him. He found a spot and laid down.

I stood up and stretched when I finished the column. He must have sensed the movement because he stood, stretched, and sat down leaning against my leg. His behavior reminded me of Ol' Buddy.

If you've followed my blog for a while, I've written about Ol' Buddy before. He was my sidekick for years before developing cancer. Once afflicted, he lasted less than a month. It broke my heart when I lost him. I have this picture of him in my office.

One day, Ol' Hook will hold a place of honor in my office too.

Fell in my lap

Driving home this week I saw a painted rock that I've seen at least a hundred times. The first time I noticed it I thought it was a cool thing to do with a rock. Then I didn't think about it, but it made me turn my head as I drove by. 

Finally, the feature writer that was sleeping in my brain woke up. I'd been to the only store in Empire for lawnmower gas. When I drove by the rock, I thought to myself, "I wonder what the story is there?" 

When I got home, I mentioned it to Jilda. She said, "You know his daughters, send one of them a note and ask if her dad would mind me shooting a picture of the rock.

I sent the note and within five minutes she'd responded. "He said he'd love to talk to you about the rock. He said if you're not busy, to come now." 

I grabbed my camera and hopped in the truck. My intention was to get a picture and enough information for a cutline for the picture. I wound up talking to the gentleman over an hour. I think it will be a remarkable story.

I won't say much more until the story is published but I will post this one once it runs.

Until then, I'm posting a picture of one of our sunflowers from a few years ago. The ones we planted this year have not bloomed yet, but they are on the cusp.

A fun Fourth ~ my column from Sunday's paper

We had some of our nieces and nephews over this week to celebrate Uncle Sam’s birthday. We don’t do midday heat very well, so we asked our guests to come later in the day when our house and yard are in full shade. After a meal of ribs, potato salad, and baked beans we retired to the back deck where we spent a few hours watching the kids. It’s one of my favorite past times. 

Most of our nieces and nephews live in subdivisions. Their yards are beautiful and suit their houses, but they aren’t designed for a yard full of kids playing the old games. We have enough room here at our house for them to stretch their legs.

I’m not sure who taught them how to play freeze tag, red-light/green-light and kick the can, but they played these games in our yard. It’s funny because these are the games we played when I was a kid. We didn’t have phones, iPads, or other electronic games. The most high-tech toy I owned was a bicycle. 

Every few minutes, one of the kids would run to the porch to get their moms to brush grass off their legs and backs. While the mamas brushed, the kids tanked up on lemonade or juice boxes.  Now and then we had to doctor them up with Bactine and Band-Aids before sending them back into the game. As they say, “Fun ain’t cheap.”

I thought to myself, these kids will sleep good tonight. 

Someone snapped a picture of me sitting there leaning against a deck rail. When I saw the picture, it reminded me of my mother. She lived for holidays. Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day were special to her. The weather was usually warm, and the kids could play outside instead of being underfoot. 

One Fourth of July before her health declined, she played touch football in her front yard. Her grandkids and a crew of neighborhood kids ran over to join the fun. Even in her early 70s, she wasn’t a bad wide receiver, and none of them could trash talk better than her. She’d taunt the opposition with things like, “You get in my way, and I’ll call your mother you little squirt.” They usually gave her a lot of room. 

All these things came to mind when I saw the picture of me on the deck. Now that I’m older, pictures are like time machines to me.

At dusk, our niece Samantha pulled a bushel of sparklers from a plastic bag. She began lighting the sparklers and passing them out. Soon our backyard was filled with what looked like fizzing lightning bugs. After those were gone, she pulled out a larger bag of multicolored sparklers. The kids ran around the yard leaving trails of rainbow smoke behind them. 

Our nephew Haven provided the fireworks finale. His were the colorful aerial fireworks. 

After the smoke cleared, the kids came in and tanked up on ice cream and pound cake that was fresh out of the oven.  

It was a fun “Fourth” for Jilda and me. I know my mother would have loved it.

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Hope for a happy ending

Jilda's sister Nell called yesterday to talk for a moment. During the conversation, she told Jilda that someone had dumped a mama dog and three puppies near her barn.

She has her hands full now with her husband and daughter. Both of them have health issues. Also, her sister has a small farm and she spends a lot of time tending her critters. She cannot have any more critters just now. She told us she was going to take them to the local shelter.

Often when dogs and cats go there, things don't end well for them. If no one adopts them within a few days, they are euthanized to make room for other critters that people bring in daily.

I told Jilda to tell her that I'd take a picture of them and see if we could find them homes with some of our Facebook friends.

I took the picture below. It was hard holding all three of them so we settled for two. I put the picture on Facebook with a brief note. The post was shared a dozen times within a few minutes. I've had three people send me private messages so far asking for my sister-in-law's number. 

I have my fingers crossed that things end well for these little guys.

ShroomTime

It's rainy here. Sometimes in summer, it gets hot and dry. But there are times, like now, it's hot and rainy. The sun comes out warm and by lunchtime, the heat chases everyone inside except those poor souls who have to venture out. Then the rain comes. 

This evening as we drove home from a Birmingham gig at a retirement village, we could see storm clouds to the west. Our house is west of Birmingham, so we called Jilda's brother to get a first-hand forecast here at our house. He said the sun was out, but he could hear thunder in the distance.

By the time we got home and unloaded our equipment, we started hearing fat drops of rain falling on the metal roof. Soon the bottom fell out.

The tomatoes love hot and rainy weather. We have green tomatoes as big as my fist on the plants in the planters at the edge of our deck.

Another species that loves this kind of weather is mushrooms. I've seen hundreds of mushrooms when we walk each day. This morning as we walked, I saw one almost as big as a soccer ball. 

Tonight will be an early night here at the Watson's. I hope your Saturday has been a good one.

Envious

Ok, I'll admit it. I'm a little envious of our friends Wes and Deidra. Seven years ago they invited us to vacation with them in Telluride, Colorado. They had a condo with several bedrooms. Both their daughters were too young to date then. We all had bedrooms with private baths.

The altitude took some getting used to. The thin air caused Jilda did pass out once as she was coming back from the bathroom one evening and she whacked her head on a wall. She was a little embarrassed, but she wasn't hurt. But the town was incredible. We fell in love with that place.

Well, both their kids had the audacity to grow up and get married. This year, THEY All went to Telluride and apparently our invitations were lost in the mail or in cyberspace (this should be read with dripping sarcasm.) We're miffed :) Well, not really miffed, but we are envious.

Fly fishing fever

I spent much of the day writing. My column was due yesterday, but the office was closed for the holiday. Wednesday is a self-imposed deadline. The editor won't start pasting up Sunday's Lifestyle page until Friday evening or Saturday morning. But it's easy to fall into bad habits.

I did walk early this morning, but by the end of the second lap, my pores were seeping. Jilda walked the third lap, but I went inside to hydrate and to start writing.

By this evening at 4 p.m., I'd written the column and two features. I am officially "caught up." At least for the moment.

One drawback of slamming words is that I didn't get a chance to shoot any pictures. Looking back through my archives, I found a picture from seven years ago. It's a picture of me fly fishing in Telluride, Colorado. That was a beautiful trip. I didn't catch that many fish, but I caught a bug. It's not fatal, but it's incurable. It's the fly fishing fever. This week I have it bad.

Happy 4th of JulyMy

Jilda baked ribs, with potato salad, and baked beans this evening for the kids. After we ate, the kids went out back and played with sparklers. When it got dark, my nephew Haven shot a few of the bigger, booming fireworks. The dogs are not fans of fireworks, so Jilda and I stayed inside and comforted them until the show was over.

I hope you all had a delightful day.

Our great niece Joy sharing the joy of the day.

A beautiful sight to behold

Walking down our barn road in summer is like walking through a tunnel. A canopy of sweet gum, oak, hickory casts the old red rock road in shadow. A strong-willed sun will weave a ray through the branches and leaves to shine on a subject like a stage light.

Yesterday, as Jilda and I on our early walk almost needed a flashlight as we traversed the road from the barn to the mailbox. Then about halfway home, I saw moss on a log. The sunlight made the emerald green sheen on the fallen log, vibrate with color. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Welcome to July ~ my column from Sunday's paper

Jilda and I shoed up early this morning to walk before the temperature and humidity made it possible to boil an egg in my pocket. A tender breeze out of the west felt good on my face. From somewhere down in the hollow, I heard an owl hooting. I usually hear Mr. Hootie at dusk, but we often hear and see some interesting things each time we walk.

I’d planned to rent a Bobcat and clear another walking path on our new property, but this year it went from winter to August, and my motivation for the new path dropped dramatically. Maybe we can do it in the fall.

On the last lap of today’s walk, I saw something in the front yard that caught my attention. Stepping closer to get a better look, I saw that it was a tiny bird’s nest. Not just any nest, but a hummingbird’s nest. I looked up into the water oak to see where it came from, but it was impossible to tell. 

There were no tiny eggshells lying around. It was hard to tell if the nest had been knocked

out of the tree by a rowdy squirrel, or if had blown out during a recent thunderstorm. I hope the babies hatched and headed for the zinnias in the backyard, but it’s hard to say.

Leaning over, I picked up the nest for a closer look. It was not much bigger than a silver dollar. Woven from lichen and pine needles that weren’t much thicker than thread, I could hold the little nest in the palm of my hand. The construction was sound and the little nest was not as fragile as I had imagined. I put it on the screen porch so that I can show it to my great nephew Jordan when he comes over.

I had only seen a hummingbird nest up close one other time in my life. It was many years ago while Jilda and I were visiting our friends Tom and Judy at their place on the Warrior River. It was springtime.

The day was warm, and everyone wore swimsuits with towels draped over our shoulders. We were going for a boat ride. Judy pulled us aside and whispered as if she were sharing a secret. “I only show this to our special friends,” she said. Near the edge of their boat dock was a privet bush overhanging the water. She leaned over and gently pulled one of the small limbs down enough for Jilda and me to see the hummingbird nest. Inside were three eggs that were not much bigger than an English pea. 

Wrapping my mind around the teeny creatures inside was hard. I shook my head in wonder as Judy gently guided the limb back into place. That was before my phone had a camera, so I missed that picture. But I can close my eyes and with a little prompting, see myself standing on tiptoes in the warm sun on that dock and see those tiny eggs for the first time. 

I know I sometimes whine about the heat and humidity. It’s during these times I dream of summering in the mountains of Colorado or Montana, but I’d miss the things I see around here on our daily walks.

A good day

The year is half over. It hasn't sunk in yet, but I flipped the page on my day planner to July 1, so I know it's true. Also, in looking back at my last few posts, it seems I've been whining about the weather.  Note to self – stop complaining you big whiney baby!!!

This evening I saw my niece Samantha walking up the hill toward our house. Her son Jordan came. He's in training for a triathlon. He's on a team with two of his older cousins. He kicks it off with a two-mile run. His cousin Breeze has the swim piece of the match, and his older cousin Stone will finish off with the final two-mile run. 

He ran this evening. I couldn't have jogged to the barn, but he ran from our back gate around the barn and back seven times and didn't break a sweat. I wanted to smack him. 

Jilda fetched him a cooling towel and some water, but he didn't need it. The swim team has him in excellent condition. 

While Jilda and I sat on the deck and watch, a beautiful butterfly lit on the banister. Apparently, she wanted to watch Jordan run too.  I didn/t have my new camera, but I pulled the phone from my pocket and snapped a quick shot before he flitted away.

Today had been a good day.