Bits & Pieces

Some years bad-luck just settles in and takes a huge bite out of our butts - bad-luck chews and chews until she's had her feel, and we suffer for her bloated and greedy ways.

Our Boar's Nest suffered from last weeks flood. This weekend we gather to assess the damage and clean and salvage those items not ruined forever. I had left my old Army cot, a beautiful military issued sleeping bag, vintage Coleman lanterns and stove, and antique kerosene lanterns in the building. According to FEMA this was an historic flood. The highest waters ever recorded for the river where we have the Nest built. Our stilts were not sufficient, high enough, for the flood.

In our storage trailer we have stored prep items and thousands of rounds of ammunition. Most of the ammo is packed within ammunition cans, and much of mine, in sealed battle packs. I hope its all dry, and if not, we'll unpack it and allow the ammo to sun dry. Most military ammo has sealed primers. I sure won't throw it away.

The reports I've received from locals is if you were in a boat riding the flood it was possible, while sitting in said boat, to reach and touch the top of the Boar's Nest. Bad stuff.

We'd just installed new insulation. Hopefully we'll be able to salvage some of it. We're not sure if the insulation wicked the water, if so, it too is gone.

Pictured above is one of two very old American made lanterns I left stored in the Boar's Nest. I think I remember it sitting atop one of the storage cabinets. Hope my memory serves me well, I'd hate to lose it.

The building itself I'm sure is fine. We'll clean out the mud, replace and repair. Adversity shall be kicked in the butt.

*****

My Sweet Wife is depressed, badly. I'll not spell out the reasons, hell, you know the story. Anyway, I've noticed of late she has been spending hours with a laptop deep into research. I never asked why simply because it kept her busy and her eyes were free of tears.

A couple of nights ago she came to me and said, "I want to adopt a child. I want a little girl no one can take from us." She continued, "There are hundreds of children out there begging for a home, a family, and they need love."

I didn't bat an eye...maintained my composure. Wiped my nose, scratched my head. Then, "Okay."

She smiled. And, once again, all was right with the world. She fell asleep that evening without a tear.

So, we'll try again. The process begins today. You, I'm sure, might have noticed I haven't written as much of late. Now you understand why my blog has taken a hit on the number of blog pieces posted. For the last few nights we've been deep into web research on adoptions.

We've raised a child, a boy. He didn't turn out so well. We've asked ourselves why, where did we go wrong, and we just cannot find an answer. This time, we'll ask a little girl if she wants a loving mother and father. If she'd like to be our little girl, our daughter. There is a void in our lives and it needs to be filled, we need a child to love.

I've found six or seven little girls, on the Florida agency web-search, I want to bring home, now. To read their on-line descriptions, and see their little faces, is enough to break your heart. Those little girls need my arms around them, and I need their hugs in return. I want another little girl to raise. To protect. One of mine own.

Thus begins a very long process.

Oh, by the way, it's a secret. Don't tell anyone.

Stephen

Thanks and Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Woodsterman. My friend I promise I will always answer any and all comments you leave here at my humble blog. It might take me a few hours, and in rare cases days, but you can bet your last dollar I will reply.

To my other friends I ask, please, take a ride over and visit our new friends blog, http://woodstermangotwood.blogspot.com/. I  believe you'll find it fun and entertaining.

Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Really, Is It Just Me

Or is the Capitol Fourth the corniest show of Independence Day.

Of course we always watch. Well, at least Sweet Wife. I'm reading your blog.

Stephen

Summer

In truth I hate summer.

I hate its heat and humidity, and the almost constant glare of the sun which makes dark glasses and wide brimmed hats and soft cotton clothing with bandannas a necessary uniform of all Southern men and women.

Then again there is much I do like and enjoy about summer.  The early mornings on my deck just after sunrise, the overnight breezes cooled with the scent of the marsh and oak mast and how the Spanish moss shifts and swings with the slightest caress of the wind and how the birds sing in subdued cadence as if still adrift and lost in an early morning dream.

I like how the summer brings us the smell of fresh mowed lawns; the rich cut odor of green. The first of season farmed picked watermelon, hard and heavy, and when thumped, promises that rich and cold sweet taste of our lost youth. 

The laughter of children as they jump and play and splash in kiddie pools hidden within the back yards with their plastic beach balls and the way the little girls long hair plasters to their cheeks and the silly giggles that make me smile and remember.

And shade....shade and shadows make summer bearable especially when afloat in an old wooden jonboat with your canepole and a small can of worms and the waters are tea colored with tannin and how the cork slips gently beneath the water and you feel the strong pull of a bluegill and as you fight the fish you can smell the musty sharp scent of the swamp and how the suns warms your shoulders and you know for certain this is the best day of your life.

I like the beach on a hot summers day with a good chair, a large umbrella, a cold beverage and a book as the seagulls scream for my attention and the lovely ladies in their perfectly fitted swimsuits, all legs and smiles. The wind brisk and cool off the waves and I like the sound of the surf and how my toes feel cool as my feet sink into the wet sand. Though the best part of a day at the beach is the cold shower afterwards and then how a tall glass of cold sweet tea, drained quickly, returns my life to normal.

When I was young the best part of summer were the evenings, the quiet moments with just the song of crickets and tree frogs and fireflies; those little winks of bright green. The joy as we chased and bottled their glow for our bedroom and how we feel asleep to a gentle yellow green night light of dreams. Fireflies are the fairies of soft summer evenings.

I like too how in the deep dog days of summer, when I'm out in the yard and if I stand quietly still, I can hear the cicadas with their tree hugged screamed mating song, and if I'm lucky, I might catch an occasional long distance and forlorn whistle of the Bobwhite quail, which evokes memories of my childhood summers and long naps in a hay field just before the late afternoon thunderstorms came charging in off the coast.

Then we have Independence Day - the best part of summer. This day, the forth of July, is to me the essence of summer. The birth of our great country with its fireworks, and backyard grills with sweet brambly sharp toned odors of burgers and hotdogs. The backyard tables dressed in checkered cloth loaded with watermelons and slaw and bakedbeans and ice cold pitchers of tea and metal buckets filled with beer.

I love best the evenings after all the food has disappeared and the chairs are moved just so for the evening of fireworks and fun. I like how the children gather and each after the other light their little sticks of sparklers and how the cheery red bits shower down and how the little girls scream and the boys dance and tease each the other. I love the distance boom and heavy thunder when the main show begins out over the water. It's not unlike warfare of a long now almost forgotten nightmare of battle. A battle of remembrance for those ghost of the night responsible for our celebration. 

Really, I do so hate summer.

Stephen

In The Heat

It's time.

I must move out into the heat of the day and attend to my yard. Time to mow, chop, cut and clean. Time to sweep the dropped cut pine cones the squirrels so love. Time to mindlessly walk back and forth and chop down the grass. Time to think and dream while I sweat out the poison of my nightmares.

Time to move on and forget.

See you later.

Stephen

For Your Support

I want to thank each and everyone of you, my kind friends, for your support and words of encouragement as we dealt with our family problems. It shames me that I've even bothered you good people.

This will be the last post in which I will mention my grandchild, Little Bit. I must sadly report she has been lost to us for the foreseeable future. I will not reveal the details as I'm sure I've tried you patience far too much with this sadness.

The bigger shame is how the Florida state government doesn't recognize the rights of grandparents.

It's been a very sad day. Our hearts ache.

Stephen

Resistance Movements

I must confess I like movies and books that deal with resistance movements. Doesn't really matter which resistance, though I like the stories of the Irish Republican Army above all others. Kinda runs in my blood don't you know. Don't ask why, I just do. With the current situation in our country a good resistance movement might solve many of our nation's problems.

The Swedish had more than there fair share of hero's involved in their resistance, as did the Italians, and believe it or not, the French.

Quality resistance movies are hard to find. In the above picture you'll notice 'the wind that shook the barley.' If you haven't as yet seen the movie by the same title - find and watch it. It's on Netflix.

It's interesting to watch a good resistance movie and identify the firearms. The early Irish movement greatly depended upon the Brits steady, but reluctant, supply of good rifles and handguns. Enfields during the early years later gave way to Colts.

Help me out. I'm bored. If you have a good title, book or movie, give me a yell.

Stephen