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 

Bits & Pieces

There is a nice chill in the air and the sun is bright and the live oaks dance with the mornings breeze. I love it.

On last evenings forecast the weather critter made a comment of possible snow flurries in the early hours of today. Sweet Wife turns to me and in a voice filled with little girl wonderment said, "Oh, I'd love to see snow." She's girly that way...

I smiled, replied, "It'll never happen. Besides, you'd need to wake awful early."

"Then wake me."

So this morning after my shower I sneaked a peek outside. Noted the temp. It was kinda dark so any trace of tiny ice particles were impossible to find. I turned back towards the bed and gently traced a finger down the side of her face. I gently bent and placed a soft kiss to my lovely wife's forehead and said, "Honey, come on or you'll miss the snow." 

She moaned, shifted slightly and softly said, "Leave me alone or I'll smash your face with the stupid alarm clock."

*****

Had all the guys over to the shop last night. Well, almost all of them. Couple of our friends wussied out and stayed home under their wives protection. Senior arrived with a new AR build, a pistol version of high quality. Pirate Jim flipped out his new movie carry piece, a five shot .38 by Ruger. The little sucker was as light as a feather. (BTW, when ever you attend a theater pack heat, shut down your cell phone, and for goodness sake mind your manners. Here in the deep South rules are important, otherwise you're likely to find yourself with a pistol stuck in your nose. If you don't believe me just read the Tampa newspaper.)

Now, where did I leave off....oh, Duke arrived early and we sat and chatted about all things food related. I like to cook and he loves to eat. I still need his mother's fresh beet recipe.We spent a pleasant hour in quiet conversation. All of us had hoped we'd have another drive-by. I noticed the guys frequently checked their handgun loads. Senior smacked home a full magazine, Pirate Jim, ever so often, would spin the cylinder on his little Ruger and I made sure my Para was close to hand. Duke pulled and laid several handguns within easy reach.



The boogers failed us. Maybe next month.

*****

Guess who I was able to hug for just a few minutes early Christmas Eve?

I'll tell you all about it...

Later.

Stephen

In The Quiet of The Night

The young couple rented the old two story house with a roof of hundred year old cedar shingles. The house was located just off the main street of a small town. Their bedroom faced the street, and they were happy with the large double paned window with its view of the mountains and Puget Sound. The young man was home on leave.

The young couple were in bed and they were warm and had only light from the few cars that passed in the late hours and the young man enjoyed the way the light passed through the window for it gave him a show as it reflected off the snowflakes. He was content and had great plans.

The young man held his beautiful wife close and he enjoyed the scent of her; all fresh and clean with just a touch of perfume. She knew he liked it and had taken great pains for this reunion.

She moved to a sitting position and bent and kissed him and he liked the way her long hair tickled his chest. Outside, the wind sent out a gust and their wind chimes beat a steady rhythm. She wrapped the blankets over her slim form and then said, "The test was positive."

The young man felt his stomach knot and visions of lost dreams danced over his mind. "Are you sure? Maybe they're wrong."

She giggled. "No, it's true. Aren't you happy for us."

He reached and placed his hand on her arm, gave it a little squeeze, then brushed her beautiful face. He gently pulled her down and held and kissed her. The old house creaked under the wind's force and the snow gave a show of white streaked lines on the wavy glass of their window.

He whispered to her, "We're so young."

"I know. But if not now when? We have the store and your career. We'll manage."

Over the last year, in between his duty assignments, they'd traveled the state and searched out old pieces of furniture, antiques, and the young man took great care to refinish the pieces. They'd rented a store front in the small towns main street and were fairly successful for their effort.

 He had other plans too. The young man wanted a home of their own and had made an offer on the Victorian he'd found that sat high on a hill with views of the mountains and had a cold wild stream where the seasonal salmon migrations filled it bank to bank. And, he had hobbies. How would he have the time to roam the mountains, rifle in hand, or afford his books, or fish the wild run of Steelheads, or bird hunt the fall season.

"You still with me?"

"Yes," the young man said. "I'm still here."

The young woman read his face in spite of the darkness. She cried.

A week later the young man parked his truck across from the clinic. Curbside was a local schools playground and as he stepped from the truck he noticed the little ones run and play and swing; they were happy and he smiled and even then his resolve was strong and firm. He focused on one little girl as she pushed her swing to skirt flapping height, her giggles filled the air with joy and he didn't really care.

He walked around and helped his beautiful wife step down and took her arm and walked her inside. The older nurse gave him a firm look and took her from him. He waited.

Afterwards she stepped into the room and he rose, all gentlemanly like, to take her arm and she brushed it away and said, "It's done. I'm empty."

Only then did he feel the shame of it. Only then did it hit him of what he'd forced, and that time only moves one way and what is lost can never be returned.

The young man helped his wife back into the truck and walked to the other side. The playground was empty too. The only movement was the gentle sway of the swings in the wind.

Stephen