Weather

It seems that I've written about the weather a great deal lately. I think it's in my DNA. When I was a kid we spent a lot of time on our front porch and it seemed to me like we spent a lot of time talking about the weather.

Every time a neighbor walked by in front of our house, the first topic on our tongues was the weather. Summer: "Did you see that heat lightning last night? It was a sight."
Autumn: "You figure there will be frost by Halloween?"
"Better cover the collards."
Winter: "When is that last chance of frost?"
"The Almanac says April 3."
"It should be safe to plant maters after that."
Spring: "The signs will be in the knees soon. We can start planting squash."
And so on.

So, I find that I do that a lot.

Old soldiers

We normally run a box fan at night to generate white noise. Without the power the fan was silent. I tossed and turned until just before 1 a.m. the fan sprang into life and whirred as God intended.

I had the good fortune to interview a WWII veteran on Monday. He turned 94 in December. He looks as though he could still wear his Army uniform.

He fought in North Africa, Italy, and France. He saw things no human should have to witness. He didn't sound bitter. He is not one to embellish or brag. In fact, his two sons had no idea what he went through until they started going with him to veteran reunions around the country.

Today, I ran by his house to copy an old picture of him in uniform. When I drove up to his driveway, he was on his John Deere tractor spreading red rock on his driveway.

After the story runs in the paper, I will post it here, It's my intention to share as many of these as I can.

In the dark

A car hit a utility pole this evening and we’re in the dark. It’s 27 degrees outside but the gas logs fireplace makes it cozy in here.
Hopefully we’ll have power soon.

Better that you found it

My fourth-grade teacher at Dora Elementary School taught me some things that had nothing to do with reading, writing, or arithmetic. Even though I was only 10 years old, I realized Mr. Hocutt was wise. The things he said resonated with me. One of his “sayings” became one of my mantras. 

One day after playing on the playground, he asked us to look around and pick up any litter we saw. As we hustled around picking up scraps of theme paper and old Dixie cups, he said, “We should always leave a place better than we found it.” 

Through the years, I’ve tried to do that wherever I go. 

I thought about Mr. Hocutt this past Tuesday when I was on my way home from a meeting at the Mountain Eagle office.  When I glanced down at my instrument panel, the needle on my gas gage was lounging on the E. I stopped at the next gas station and pulled up to the pump. Clicking the gearshift into park, I stepped out to gas-up my truck. 

My mind was adrift as I stood there in the afternoon sun. When I glanced down at my feet, I saw that someone had thrown two beer cans down in front of the pump. The trash container was less than three feet away, but that distance must have been too great. I could almost see the litterbug kicking the beer cans from under his feet. The driver was either drunk or lazy. I’m pretty sure Mr. Hocutt would have frowned on this.

While I waited for my nozzle to click off, I picked up the two cans along with a few other pieces of trash and tossed them into the can.  

A few weeks ago, my wife Jilda and I decided to get our exercise in early.  As she bundled up for the walk, I rolled our garbage can down to the road for pickup later that morning. 

Our laps took us down through the garden, around the barn, and up the old driveway to the main road in front of our house. By the time we’d walked our first lap, I noticed something on the ground next to the garbage can. When I looked more closely, I realized that one of our neighbors had tossed a dirty baby diaper out. I’m guessing they were trying to be thoughtful by tossing it so close to the garbage can.

I love babies, but their diapers can be disgusting. Looking around, I found a long stick and fished the diaper off the ground and dropped it into the garbage can. The rest of our walk was hard for me to enjoy because I was stewing – trying to figure out what low-life tossed the diaper and thinking of creative ways I could teach them a lesson.

Here’s the thing. We all live in a garden. Leaving a place better than you found it is not rocket surgery. It can be something as simple as returning your buggy to the bin and grabbing a buggy that someone left the middle of the parking lot. Or it could be a smile or kind word when someone is having a hard day. 


It doesn’t take much to leave a place better than you found it.



Bees

Things will be getting sweeter around here this summer. We've kicked around the idea of getting beehives for years. A few weeks ago I took the leap.

A woman I work with overheard me talking about bees a few weeks ago. When I got back to my desk, she came over and told me that her grandpa had hives with bees that he wanted to sell. His health has gone downhill in recent years and he wanted to find the bees a good home. I jumped at the chance and bought two hives. 

This afternoon was chilly but beautiful. Mr. Smith was available so I drove down to have a look at the hives.

He lives close to the river. As I crossed the Franklin Ferry bridge, I slowed to watch a fisherman in a jon boat sputter up the creek which is a tributary to the Black Warrior.

Mr. Smith was delightful. He showed me the beehives, and how to process the honey and the beeswax. He showed me each tool and how it was used. He showed me how to capture swarms of bees when hives divide.

I could have talked with him all evening, but I didn't want to overstay my welcome.

The bees will stay in place until the weather warms up. He will observe the bees and call me when they are ready. 

We're preparing a spot for the hives between the apple and peach trees. 

I'm excited.

I shot this picture last summer when I did a feature on beekeeping but my hives will look like these except they will be painted.

Oakmoss

Jilda, her brother, and I drove to South Alabama this morning.  We went to Wetumpka which is a little east of Montgomery. A tornado stomped through there a few weeks ago. Fortunately, no one died in that storm.

Alabama terrain is different the further south you drive. We live in the toes of Appalachians. Some call them foothills, but that's a stretch. Atop of the ridges, you can see rolling hills and shaded valleys for as far as your eyes can reach. The view is stunning when the sun is at the right angle.

Driving south of Birmingham, you leave the hills behind. The terrain gets "flatish." Is that a word?
Further south as you reach Montgomery and points south, the vegetation changes.

There are still plenty of pine and oak trees, but the oak trees look a little sad. That's because there is a kind of hanging moss that drapes over the limbs like shaws.

Today, we were in a bit of a hurry, so I didn't get a chance to stop and take pictures. I remembered that about five years ago, I went down there to take pictures for a website I was developing.  There was no hurry that day. I took tons of pictures. The picture below is one I took that day.

Jilda's brother had a birthday on Monday, and the trip today was to take him somewhere he wanted to go.

As a bonus, I got to see some oakmoss.

The river is up

The river is up. Driving by today, there were people standing there watching. The last few months have been wet. I've seen more rain that I can remember. 

It rained so hard a few weeks ago that it almost submerged the Historic Marker in the parking lot. It's not that high now, but it's raging. 

It seems the weather has been wacky the last several years. Maybe it's just me, but it seems like when it rains...it RAINS. When it's dry....it's DRY. And when the storms come it leaves destruction in its path.

Did mention that the river is up?

Triplets

We have triplets now. Not Jilda and I. That would be an immaculate reception. But there are three young deer that we see in our garden.

The last several times either of us has left or come back to the house after dark we have seen them. They are too young to have road smarts so we have to be mindful.  

Last night, it was raining hard when I came home. At the end of our driveway, I startled the smallest of the three. Instead of bounding off like its two siblings, it froze in the middle of the road and watched me. I had to come to a complete stop and let it think about what to do. 

Suddenly, it wheeled to starboard and was gone in a flash. 

I've seen them during daylight, but my phone camera won't get a decent picture of them from a distance.

Soon, they'll know that the road is not their friend and they will spend most of their time in the cover of the surrounding woods. They are beautiful creatures. 

The picture below is one I shot last year.  

Grunting

I grunt now when I stand. My new knee helped, but my other joints must have something against titanium. So, I grunt.

The past several months I've noticed that Caillou the wonder collie has started grunting too. When he stands and he doesn't lie down as gracefully as he once did.

Tonight when I was cruising through photo archives for a pic to post tonight, I realized why Caillou was grunting. We've had him since 2010. That's nine years. Even though he was young when he chose to come live with us, he was full grown. He could be 12 years old. That's old for a big dog.

Other than the grunting, he seems to be healthy. I hope he stays that way for a long time, but time has taught me that's rarely the case. But I don't want to think about that right now.

Below is a picture of Caillou in the spring of 2010.

Smart Kids

Our great nephew Jordan took his first SAT test this past weekend. He came over and walked with us Sunday afternoon. He's in the fifth grade. I'm not sure I could spell SAT when I was in the fifth grade.

He's never made a B on his report card. When I asked him about the test, he shrugged and said the reading was easy. The math was hard. He won't know his scores until March. I'd be willing to bet he did well on the test. 

I asked where he wanted to go to college. Without missing a beat, he said Yale. If someone had mentioned Yale to me in the fifth grade, I would have told them that's what my mama does when she's really mad.

If he does get a scholarship there, Jilda and I have already decided to rent our house out here and rent an apartment in New Haven, Connecticut.  

On the last lap of our walk, I raced him up the hill. That was a joke. He was up the hill in a flash and had climbed the magic tree in the front yard to wait for me. 

I'm glad we have smart kids coming along behind us. We'll need some smart kids to keep the wheels on the earth bus.

Telling storiesThis

One of my favorite radio shows when I was a kid was Paul Harvey. He knew how to find good stories and how to tell ‘em. I’ve learned, there are stories all around us if we take the time to look and listen.

Last summer when the mercury had very little room at the top of the thermometer, Jilda and I needed a few groceries and reprieve from the heat, so we headed to Walmart.  

The tiara lady smiled and greeted us as we walked in. She’s been greeting customers for years. She always makes me smile, even when I don’t feel like it.

As we strolled around the store, Jilda said, “A story about the Tiara Lady would be a good story for the paper.” On the way out, I stepped over and asked the tiara lady if she would consider letting me interview her for the Mountain Eagle. She wasn’t sure anyone would want to read about her story, but she agreed. 

We’d always called her the tiara lady because every time you saw her, she was wearing a tiara to greet customers. Her name is Marlene Williams Young.

I made an appointment with her for a few days later and took my camera. We spent a few minutes talking. She told me some great stories, and I snapped a few tiara photos.

The story appeared in the paper in July and went viral. It was shared over 12,00 times on Facebook and thousands of people read her story.

The CEO of Walmart sent Young a private message on Facebook thanking her for taking such good care of Walmart customers.

Someone from People of Alabama saw my article and contacted her about doing a segment. Since the release of that clip, over a million people have viewed her story. People have asked for her autograph. I’m guessing this story changed her life.

The same month I interviewed the tiara lady, I came across another story idea while driving home. A painted rock in the yard of an older gentleman piqued my curiosity. I’d seen the rock a hundred times, but that day I SAW it. 

Glancing into the yard, I saw the man sitting in the shade with his dogs at his feet. I flipped on my blinker and turned into his drive.

When I asked if he would consider letting me do an interview, he said, “Sure, sit down a spell.” We talked for over an hour. 

His name was Drennen Baggett, and he was 91 years old. He told me he had Native American blood flowing through his veins. Baggett had led a colorful life. 

When I asked him about the painted rock in his yard, he told me the story.

One day while sitting in his shady resting place, he looked at the rock from a distance and thought, “I could paint me an Indian chief with his war bonnet on that rock,” Baggett said.  He went to Walmart and bought enough paint to do the job.  

Baggett had defied death a number of times, but he fell ill not long after the story appeared in the paper.

His daughter told me that he had framed the article that ran in the paper and kept it by his bed. I got word that Mr. Baggett died on December 30. 

I know I’m not Paul Harvey, but I thankful I have an opportunity to tell the stories of some amazing people.

This was the sky tonight as we headed to yoga.

Without my help

Today, I rested. It's rare that I have a day without a ton on my calendar. There was stuff I could have done, but I decided to let it wait.

Strangely enough, the wind still blew, the birds still dined at our feeders, and tonight the full moon rose. All without my help.

No much to say

I choose to post a picture tonight in lieu of words. Sorry. I'm whupped.  I'll do better tomorrow.

Chicken trauma

An owl got one of our chickens yesterday. Chickens are vulnerable to a number of predators. Weasels, opossums, raccoons, and hawks.

I know it was an owl because yesterday afternoon right at dark, I heard the chickens. That's rare with these chickens. They are hens and so they don't crow at daybreak like roosters.

When I stepped down to check on them, an owl was in their coop eating corn from their feeders. Once the owl saw me, it flew up to a low branch of a nearby sweet gum tree and observed me.

After putting the chickens into their coop and latching the door, I stepped back inside my house for my BB gun.  I didn't want to hurt the owl but I wanted him to know I was unhappy. I fired several times into the tree. One of the shots must have gotten close because he flew away.

I'm on call at the paper, but Sunday I plan to put up netting which is a deterrent for hawks and owls.

On the lighter side, Jilda and I went to one of our favorite restaurants tonight. The food was off the charts. The paper had given me a gift certificate to this restaurant for Christmas and it seemed like a perfect time to use it.

The only pictures I took today were of more moss and lichen. Heading into the archives, I found this picture of sparrows munching birdseed off the back deck banister. I love these little critters and they would never hurt my chickens.

Lichen bouquet

We walked in the rain today. Normally, the dogs are ecstatic, but today I think they wished they had sweaters. 

On the first lap, I noticed what looked like a bouquet on the ground. It was a beautiful piece that had fallen off of one of the dead limbs on the ancient oak down by the barn. The limb it fell from once had a tire swing attached to it.

The swing has been gone for years but you can still see where the cable attached near the trunk.

Years of swinging children rubbed the bark off the limb where the cable was attached. The oak is so noble, it holds on to its limbs as long as possible.

You can see lichen growing on the limb. When I saw the lichen bouquet this morning, it didn't touch it. I wasn't sure if it was toxic. Neither was I sure if it was harmful to the tree.

I did a Google search a few minutes ago and found that there is nothing to fear.

The bark of trees such as the live oak provides a stable surface for lichen growth. Lichens may, in fact, help live oaks by discouraging insects and fungi. The long strands of lichen provide nest-building material for birds, as well as camouflage from predators.

I was so happy to read this.

Green velvet

The walk this morning was "chillified" as my grandmother might have said. The sun was out, but the wind out of the north punched a hole through my sweat pants and shirt. It made me glad I'd put my gloves in my pocket before heading out.

I was a bit distracted because I had no clue what my column for Sunday's paper would be. As much as I preach the Be Here Now sermon, I was not there during the first part of my walk. 

Then on the second lap, I looked to the side of the barn road and saw a tree the wind had blown across the road years ago. We chainsawed it away from the road but left part of it in the hollow. The end closest to the road is the one I saw.

Pulling the phone from my pocket, I snapped a picture. I know my lovely spouse will call me a copycat because she took moss pictures earlier in the week, but since the green velvet of moss is about the only color now, it ends up being a frequent subject of our pictures.

Rain = No fishing

One of my goals for the new year is to go fly fishing at least once a month. So far, that hasn't happened. Since late December, we've had torrential rain at least once a week. When it rains that much, the lake rises so they have to run the turbines at the dam to keep water from breaching the dam.

We had an editorial meeting today at the paper. Afterward, I headed home the long way around which took me by the dam.

I pulled to the water's edge and watched. Normal the water is as green as an emerald, but when it rains this much it turns the color of chocolate milk. The places where I normally wade is under ten feet of water.

I've come up with a solution to my issue. If I don't get a chance to go in January, I'll go twice in February.

The picture below was taken earlier in the fall before the rain set in.

Getting garden ready

We had seed catalogs in the mail when we returned from our short vaycay. These days, seed catalogs are like the Sears and Roebuck Wishbooks when I was a kid. Each page is a wonder.

As I peruse the pages, I start thinking about places where I can plant grapes, pear trees, or walnut trees. I'd love to have a yard full of walnut trees, but I fear we'd never get to crack any. They grow slowly.

Last week, I went to the hardware store and bought what I need to build raised beds. I will build those this coming weekend and start planting thing we can plant early

It is my intention to get garden-ready this year so we can enjoy fresh veggies all summer long. The past few years, the weather has dictated the outcomes but that's because I didn't do my homework prior to planting season.

Thanks for the birthday wishes, but my actual birthday is tomorrow the15th.

Cutting the vaycay short

I think the gods have a thing about my birthday getaways. Three years ago when we went to the beach for my birthday, I broke the Honda key in half while trying to open the plastic around a case of water. Jilda had left her keys at home in Alabama so that her brother could use my truck while we were away. Her Honda has one of those anti-theft ignitions that won't allow you to crank the car with just the end of the key that goes into the switch. It wants the top part too. The car would not crank. The spare key was almost six hours away.

We fretted most of the night and the next day, I pieced the key together, and we left for home two days early. :)

Two years ago, we went back to the beach, and everything was going great until Jilda started having flu-like symptoms. Again, we left early and came home. After a visit to urgent care, they confirmed what we suspected – she had the flu.

Last year, we had booked rooms at the beach.  Snow and ice moved into Alabama hours before we were scheduled to leave. We canceled our reservations.

This year, we decided to go to a hotel we've been reading about. It's a five-star spa hotel in Florence, Alabama.

By the time we pulled out of our driveway, drops of rain had begun to splatter on the windshield. it wasn't much at first. We looked at each other and said, "it's not going to rain.'  By the time we reached Florence, it was raining so hard I had to slow to a crawl.

We spent most of our time in the hotel room reading. Yesterday evening, we dashed out to a place that has some of the best fried chicken on the planet. We don't eat a lot of fried stuff, but what the heck, it was my birthday vaycay. It was scrumptious.

Had the weather cleared, we were going on some tours today. The picture below explains why we packed our bags and headed home early.

Planning ahead

This year is a significant anniversary for Jilda and me. On Cinco de Mayo, we will celebrate our 45 anniversary.

We went to Ireland for our 25. That was a trip to remember. The people there treated us like family. One the second evening we went to a pub after they stopped serving dinner. The woman tending bar talked to us for a while. Jilda asked her if there was another place to eat. 

It was a small two-pub town and the other pub didn't serve food. 

The woman told us to hold on a moment. She went out the back to her house which was behind the bar. She brought us two plates of food from her own table. She wouldn't accept payment. 

 We were there for ten days. Every twist in the road was a wonder.  Cliffs, pastures, garden fences built from rocks as old as time. Even in the muted light of May, the images were breathtaking 

I said all that to say this – Ireland is on our shortlist of places to go on our 45 anniversary in May.

Seeing pictures

Yesterday evening I took several pictures. I was so taken by the massive oak at sunset that I overlooked another shot I tood a moment later of the farm pond. It didn't turn out too badly either.

I was taking a picture today and one of the subjects was a woman that Jilda and I have known for over 40 years. When I saw her, she asked how I was doing. I responded as I always do, "I'm livin' a dream." She said I think I'd be living a dream too if I got to drive around and take beautiful pictures of trees. She asked how I managed to take so many good pictures. I guffawed a good bit. She said no, seriously?

I told her that I learned to use a camera and take pictures over 50 years ago, but I'm just now learning how to "see" pictures.

I love trees

Jilda's car has been in the shop this week and I've been her private chauffeur. Today was a long day for her so I took her in early and then I headed out for my appointments.

I was writing a news story when my alarm chirped. Saving the documents, I grabbed my phone and headed back to where Jilda works to pick her up.

It was 5:30 p.m. and as I drove up the mountain road I looked off into the distance at the western horizon. It almost took my breath away.

When I turned into the long driveway where she works, I saw another photo op. Looking quickly in the rearview to make sure no one was on my bumper it was all clear.

I pulled to a stop, rolled down my window and snapped a few frames to share with you tonight. As you may have guessed, I love trees.

Passing this one by without noticing it would have been almost sinful.

Windows

We had windows like the ones below in my childhood home. Each autumn, we put putty around the glass to keep the winter wind out. It helped, but you could still see the curtains rustle on blustery days.

The thing is, I don't remember ever getting that cold. When the weather was chilly, we bundled up, When it was hot, I got as close to nakid' as I could get.

On rainy days, I spent a lot of time by those windows watching droplets scroll down the glass. The windows in our old house had tiny bubbles that you could see when the light fell on the glass.

A few years ago, I had a chance to replace all the windows in our creative space with new double-pane windows. I chose to leave the old ones in place.

The new windows aren't nearly as much fun to watch when it rains.

Making a difference

Back during this past summer, I wrote a short piece about Marlene who is a greeter at Walmart. She wears a tiara every day. She started several years ago when someone gave her tiara. She wore it to work as a joke. Everybody loved it so she started wearing a tiara daily. That was 17 years ago. 

The story resonated with local readers. When the article appeared in the paper,  I shared it on social media. The piece lit up my Facebook account. The article got over 1200 shares. She got a private message thank you from the CEO of Walmart.

The local TV station also saw the article and contacted Marlene. They asked if she'd be interested in letting them do a segment on The People of Alabama. She agreed.  

The segment aired this past week and the last time I'd looked, it had been view by close to a million people. She's signing autographs.

Marlene told Jilda the last time we were at Walmart that all the attention was because of the story I wrote. 

It was nothing for me to snap a picture and take a few minutes to capture her story. But for Marlene, it set off a chain of events that became significant in her life. 

Sometimes we don't realize that even the small things we do can make a difference in someone's life.

A gift

I rolled out of bed at 6 a.m. and wobbled to the kitchen. Once there I stood at the counter looking at the coffeemaker as if it were an apparition. My brain was in slow-mo.

Pulling the filter holder out, I realized that I hadn't prepared the coffee the night before. I shook my head to clear out the cobwebs and headed to the deck to dump yesterday's grounds.

The compost bucket sits on the railing to the left of the door. Peering eastward through the trees in the hollow, I saw scarlet clouds on the horizon. 

I pulled the phone from my pocket and snapped a few pictures. Then I stood there a long time watching the colors change.

As I walked back inside, I realized that forgetting to make the coffee last night was a gift.

Symmetry

Our chickens are always happy to see me. This morning when I went down to feed them I had a colander filled with scraps of lettuce and tomatoes leftover from dinner last night. They've learned that the colander means they'll be getting a treat.

They make low guttural sounds when I bring them treats. On days when all I have to offer them is scratch feed and high protein laying pellets, they peck my shoes. They are also quite fond of my college ring.

Most of the chickens we've had in the past were fearful of humans. Whenever I stepped into the pen, they fled to the far corners until I filled their feeders.

These hens are friendly. They follow me around. I can sometimes pick them up without them going postal.

Each morning when I walk back to the house, I'm carrying four fresh eggs. That doesn't sound like a lot, but this past week I gave two dozen eggs to the people I work with the at newspaper office. I make a delivery every few weeks. Now that the produce stand is back open, I'm going to ask if he'll sell them for me in exchange for produce. I think this arrangement has a certain symmetry to it.

The best vantage points

It seems like weeks since we've seen the sun. Today there was not the first cloud in the sky. The wind was cool, but the sun was warm on my face.

After a few laps of our walk, I laid down. Caillou must have been enjoying the sun too because he came over and flopped down beside me. Jilda snapped a picture.

When I was a kid, I spent hours lying on my back watching the clouds and listening to the sound of the breeze or many the caws of a murder of crows in the distance.

I'm not sure what happens when we get older, but for some reason, we don't take the opportunity to view life from the best vantage points.

It's a boy

We had a gathering this evening. It was a "reveal party" for my nephew and his wife. This is their second child. The first one in our great nephew Antony. 

After we ate, they cut the cake. The bottom layer was blue. Anthony was ecstatic that he's getting a little brother.

I didn't have a picture today so I dug through the archiver and found one from ten years ago. I took it one weekend when we visited Desoto State Park in North Alabama.

My friend Ray

My old buddy Ray died the week before Christmas. I've known him for as long as I can remember. He never finished high school, but he was an incredible carpenter.

The year after I retired from MaBell, I decided to remodel the house. We spent weeks rebuilding the decks, building arbors, and putting concrete siding on the house. He showed up at 7 a.m. daily and worked until quitting time.

Every couple hours, he'd take a break. We'd find a shady spot in the backyard and sit for a few minutes. He drank ice tea from his thermos and smoke unfiltered Camels. He never ate lunch because he said it slowed him down.

When we started back to work, he'd stand for a long moment organizing his actions in his head before reaching for his hammer or saw. He measured carefully. After make a mark with a flat pencil he kept behind his ear, he would study the marks just to make sure they hadn't moved. When he cut and placed the wood it always fit snugly.

A few years ago, I had a little work that needed to be done. When I called him, he said he'd been having problems with his heart and that he wasn't doing much work.

Several times when Jilda and I passed his house after that, we'd see him out on his porch swing or sitting on the tailgate of his truck. He had always been thin as a reed, but the last time we saw him at the grocery store, he looked frail.

When we got word just before Christmas that he'd died, we were saddened, but not surprised.

I always admired Ray. He was a craftsman, and as straight as his ruler. If he told you something you could take it to the bank. I never heard him cuss or talk badly about anyone. I will miss my friend.

Pictures

I came across a rare family photo tonight. It's one taken about 50 years ago. I think it's the only one in existence. In the picture are not only members of my immediate family, but my dad's mother, father, brother, sisters, and their families. The only three not shown are my older brother Neil was taking the picture, my cousin Carlton was probably off smoking, and my baby brother Darrin who had not yet been born.  I'm kneeling second from the left.

The picture was taken beside the house where I grew up in Sloss Hollow. I never noticed it until this moment, but my dad (top left) is reaching behind my sister to pinch his brother Pete's ear.

Sometimes when I take pictures of people someone protests. "I look a mess." Or, "I don't look good in pictures," I hear both of these great deal.

What I usually tell them is this: 50 years from now, you will thank me for taking this picture of you and your family.

Pictures are important. They help you to remember when your mental pictures begin to fade. I remember the dress my baby sister was wearing as she sat in my grandpa's lap the day this picture was taken. I remember that my cousin Randal (far right standing), who is one of the brightest people I've ever known, often carried a pen and paper in his shirt pocket.

Ten of the people in this photograph are dead now.

It would have been easy to have stayed at the table and had another piece of fried chicken and skipped the picture, but I am grateful we didn't.

Happy New Year

I sat tapping keys for a long time this evening. I wanted to write something profound. Something that would resonate with my blog buddies. Something they would take with them. That didn't happen.

I then looked at my camera for a recent picture. A picture that would elicit ooooo and ahhhhhhs. Nada.

My fall back goto muse box of instant ideas was empty.

Pulling up Google photos, I scanned backward eight years. The random blue confetti sky picture I chose sums up my thoughts for the New Year up nicely.