| Marfa Lights... What is significant about these lights is that they have been appearing for over a century. Back before there were headlights or lights from passing aircraft. Back in the 1800s, cowboys and pioneers first noticed the lights and spent many a sleepless night thinking they were the lights from Apache campfires. |
| Daddy's Picasso ... Naturally when I found the frame with the cracked glass lying in a puddle of water in the living room floor after Hurricane Charley passed through, I was devastated. The photo was unrecognizable. It was an old photo anyway; fragile. The water had caused the colors to run, the lines of contrast had blurred -- the truck became just a large block of sienna and ran together with the blue of Daddy's shirt and the sky in the background. What I was looking at was not a favorite photo, but more an abstract painting by Pablo Picasso. |
| Hurricane Education ... After having lived through the 2004 Florida tropical weather season, I have become a pro at deciphering weather lingo. I now understand the significance of potential steering mechanisms, wind sheer, high pressure ridges, low pressure troughs, maximum sustained winds as opposed to gusts, millibars, eye walls and projected paths. They say the best way to defeat an adversary is to learn about them. I have learned. I am now a bonafide, card-carrying, hurricane dad-gum specialist. Me and Steve Lyons, yep. I can hold my own in conversation with any meteorologist anywhere, and have unofficially dubbed myself Honorary Meteorologist, and I defy anyone, anywhere to challenge that title. |
| I Dreamed of Florida ... For a long while, looking out my bedroom window was a waste of time, as my window treatment on that side of the house was tin foil taped inside the glass to knock out the afternoon sun. Before you go passing judgment, it was the deluxe, heavy-duty kind. Cheap I am not. But tin foil curtains are still not conducive to external viewing. You look out, you see a blurry vision of yourself looking back in. |
| Miss Scovey ... Now it was my turn to do some neck craning and hissing. Then with no regard to the fact that I was outside and it was broad daylight, I streaked (literally) across the yard, abandoning my t-shirt in my wake—and headed for the nearest shower. |
| Blue and Green Eggs ... One look at the little chicks and I was devastated. Their roof was still intact, but the rain had blown in from the sides and drenched them, then the cool wind had done its bit and the end result was that I had some motionless baby chicks on my hands. |
| The Chase... "You gotta go to sleep at some point, boy," he said ominously. "don't ya know that? Aren't ya gonna answer me?" "But dad, you just told me not to say…" "Are … you … talkin'?!?" |
| Hog Hunting with the Kids... "You're gonna walk four or five miles in the dark by yourself?" She asked incredulously. "I don't particularly relish the thought, but right now it sounds like a lot better idea than getting left out here in the dark. At least right now I have an idea how to get back." The boys, apparently having seen such scenarios before, put their heads together for the next plan of action while Jill stood and blinked at me in the darkness. "I can't let you walk back. I know you, it would be emotional suicide." |
| Billy Bows Up ... He came down on his front feet and lunged, catching me on my right butt cheek. For once in I don't know how long, I did not fall down or get knocked down, but held my ground. I'll admit, the impact did bend me in the middle a little bit, but since I normally bend there anyway, I came through it with nothing more than a throbbing butt. |
| Clash of the Boars ... I had just congratulated myself on managing to get through the whole afternoon clean; no dust, no mud. I took an early shower, put on a house dress, and was ready for bed. The last thing I wanted to do was walk all the way back to the boar pasture in the dark and deal with a "situation." I slipped on Fred's Georgia mud boots, he was in boxers, shirtless, and wearing a pair of hastily donned sneakers. I grabbed the spotlight, and Fred grabbed the hotshot. We were as prepared as we were prepared to get, until we saw what was up. |
| Clementine ... Fred and I had just finished feeding, when Jake came walking up from the woods with his rifle. He glanced at us, and then headed to the house to put his gun away. "Wait a minute, son, don't go anywhere." Fred said. "Why? You need my help?" "No. I need your gun." Fred said abruptly. "I have to shoot Clementine." My head snapped up, and I pinned my eyes on Fred. It wasn't so much his answer that caught me off guard, as he had been threatening to do it for quite some time. It was the conviction behind the statement, that knocked the wind out of me. "Shoot Clemetine?” I asked. "Right now?” "Yes.” Fred replied, not meeting my eyes. “I can't put it off any longer.” |
| Last Light ... Fred and I looked at each other. Before we had a chance to react, there was a response bleat. Weak, trembly, infant-like. I had heard this type of goat conversation before. One of the young nannies had kidded and now she had misplaced the kid. By the sounds of things she and the baby were both fit to be tied. I struck out in the dark, tripping over whatever got in my way until I got to the back gate. I don't know what I hoped to accomplish stumbling around blindly, but at least I could make an appearance and let the little mama know that we were aware of her plight. |
| Night Raid It ordinarily takes me a good 15 minutes after waking up to be able to make any semblance of sense, so I stared at the mess trying to come up with a logical reason for such a thing to happen. Since the air conditioning vent rarely puts out gale force winds, I immediately eliminated this possibility. I also couldn't imagine one of the girls rummaging through the trash and leaving such a mess, any more than I could imagine a burglar breaking in and expecting to find something of value in the kitchen trash can |