Autumn

Autumn

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Sunday

Here it is, my favorite day of the week. I've finished reading the paper. Had my pot of tea and eaten an English muffin. Time to rise and work just as soon as the tiny Carolina Wren outside my window finishes her song.

There, she's done. As soon as my lovely wife arrives home from church I will gently push her out the garage door and place a bucket of soapy water near her feet and a sponge in her hand and point towards my truck. It's filthy. I'm embarrassed to drive the thing. There are standards, don't 'ya know.

I'm sure she'll not mind the mixture of cold water on a fifty degree windy morning. She's made of tough good Georgia stock, fine breed those Southern peaches. I'll, of course, lend a hand. The tires could stand a bit of air. Oil level requires a check, and perhaps the coolant needs a topping off.  Don't worry, I'll stand by in case her wash water needs another shot of liquid soap.

As I wait for her I should make preps for our dinner. Remember the tease I posted, of course you do, the chicken dish...yep, that one. Thing is the dadgum chicken, a whole beauty, is partially frozen. My Georgia peach forgot to take it from the freezer. I'd left instructions, in plain simple English, over the phone. It a whole chicken...needs to be butchered, reduced to portions, but in its current state that's kinda hard. To give her credit she did remove a package of pork chops and they are nicely thawed.

I'm sure she'll not mind spanking a sparkle onto my dirty truck.

*****

The weight of procrastination sits heavily on my shoulders. So, I sit and wait her return and think of you.

I envy you, all my Northern friends with your deep cold snow and your houses all snug with the warmth of wood fires. The smell of freshly baked bread or biscuits with perhaps a bottle of honey, or better yet, a big bottle of real cane syrup proudly placed at the center of the breakfast table with fresh ground coffee all enjoyed by the light of your Aladdin lamp. I bet you've taken your grandmother's black and crusted dutch oven and placed it on the old wood stove and it simmers a wonderful venison stew.

Later you'll settle back with a good book, wool clad feet towards the fire. The dog nestled nearby and you'll listen as the winter winds howl you towards nirvana. Do you truly understand just how lucky you are to live so far from that imaginary Mason-Dixon line. Well, do you....

     
 Here I sit. The morning temperature now stands at fifty-seven degrees. The weather bug predicts sixty-seven under partially cloudy skies. The river is flat since the wind has died to nothing and a half. I suppose I should get outside and move my truck and get her bucket of water and sponge ready, maybe an old towel so she'll be able to dry the spots from the trucks finish....it just isn't cool to drive a spotted truck under this Florida sunshine.

You bunch of lucky people you...

Stephen 





30 comments:

  1. Will you be able to blog from the emergency room?

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    1. As a matter of fact, yes. Done so before when she smacked me. Wi-fi is great, isn't it.

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  2. Enjoy your Sunday. You remind me of an old dog, barking, at every noise you hear, while at the same time wagging your tail in happiness. We are at day 42 of below zero temps. Not since '81-'82 have we seen temps this cold. They tease us with the return to normal temps mid week (25 to 30 above zero)

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    1. Rob, I resemble that remark...although it's difficult to wag my tail with her boot stuck in it.

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    2. Oh, forgot, 60 and sunny here. This weather is awful.

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  3. HAHAHAHAHA

    Man, they must really hate you up in Yankeeland, rubbing it in like that. It was a happy day when I sold my snow blower and moved south. Don't miss it one little bit.

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    1. Indeed. Just funnin' with 'em. I miss my old Arctic Cat. It was yellow and like to dump me in the biggest pile of snow it could find.

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  4. hahahah..Before your next post, we'll give you time to change clothes after that bucket of soapy water gets poured over your head.

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    1. I'm fresh from shower. Didn't need soap. She's in the kitchen building a pot of pork chops and gravy. That will teach her....

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  5. I hope you survive the day! You could ask her to wax your skis & oil the bindings on your snowshoes while she's at it. You might need them soon,
    :-)

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    1. She'd do it...she's a good southern lady and minds her husband....really.

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  6. It's 0° F. this morning, as normal temps finally return to south-central Alaska. Feels good; the air is crisp, the skies are clear, and all would be right if we'd get some snow to replace all that melted in January.

    If you'd care to join us, Stephen, I'll put another pot on, and we can go to the range later on. :)

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    1. You know...I'd really enjoy a trip and visit. How difficult is it to transport my firearms to Alaska...maybe I should just drive. Shouldn't take but a day or two from here. And oh yes, we'd require a range trip.

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    2. Canada doesn't allow you to cross their border with pistols or revolvers; long arms require a ton of paperwork, but can be done.

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  7. My husbands eyes widened when I read your post to him. I told him not to get any ideas......unless he wanted a bucket wrapped around his head. Hummmmph

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    1. Ah, sweet lady, give the fella a break. I bet he's tired. Let him put his feet on the stool, make him a cup of coffee and get on out there and wash the man's rig. He deserves it.

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    2. You are absolutely right. While he puts his feet up on the stool and eats a few homemade cookies with that nice cup of coffee, I will take his rig to the carwash and then spend the afternoon shopping. He deserves it.

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    3. Of course he deserves it. As do you. Enjoy.

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  8. Well you can talk the talk.... Somehow I bet it loses something with that apron on though :)

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    1. Yes, it does. She's in the kitchen now and those porkchops smell wonderful. I allowed her to keep on her slippers. My apron his far too big for her slim little body so I went in and whipped a double tie on the string. She whispered, thanks and gave me a kiss. She's a good girl and I believe I'll keep her.

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  9. Me thinks you are still dreamin' and forgot to wake up this morning!! Thanks for the great laugh today. Now you can go back to washing your truck AND the dishes!!

    Blessings!

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    1. Oh my goodness...you caught me. Truth is, my sweet friend, the truck was half washed by the time she arrived home from truck. She is making dinner. Pork chops, browned with onion and garlic, then covered in a sauce she makes with mushrooms, stock and then simmered for about an hour. Rice and steamed cauliflower, fresh cauliflower. Yeast rolls. I sit in my easy chair with a cup of tea. Hey, it's my one and only day off.

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    2. Oops, sheessssh...I meant 'home from church.' Excuse me.

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  10. Oh, Stephen - you are such a delight! Too bad I can't send you a big box of genuine Joisey country snow!

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    1. Thanks, Sweetheart...just pack a bread bag full of the snow and tie securely. It'll make here just fine.

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  11. Now you're talkin' ... have you been peekin' in our windows. Replace the dog for a cat snuggled next to me and you've described my world right down to granny's cast iron pot filled with the best white chicken chili.

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    1. Quick, look outside....don't shoot. Never had chicken chili....but I'm willing to try. If you home is as I described you are indeed a lucky lady. We have a cat too.

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  12. Wow, Stephen. You write so beautifully that you almost convinced me that we winter-bound northerners are the luckiest people in the U.S.

    Almost

    P.S. Old towels. I guard the jealously.

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    1. (Excuse me as I finish this deep belly laugh.) All done. Thanks, Sweet Cathy - I do appreciate the kind comment. You lucky girl you.

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