This morning arrived in gray, scuttling clouds and strong winds from the west. At this writing, MeeMaw and I are still hoping that the sun will pierce the clouds and that the wind will abate just a bit. Yes, you read correctly: MeeMaw and PeePaw are actually desirous of the sun, and are actually hoping for less clouds today.


Why?


Why, because we were hoping to spend the afternoon basking and reading on the back deck, that's why.


Allow me to back up just a bit...


Yesterday, we awoke to a splendid, splendid day. It was sunny, mild, calm. Every bird in Virginia was at Possum Cough, raiding the feeders and singing like little winged bagpipes. We discovered that we have a thieving clan of pirate birds here, too. A family of blue jays has taken notice of the food we provide for our barn cats, Biscuit and Frito. The jaybirds have taken to a new morning ritual, in which they swoop onto the deck railing, peer around furtively, then hop down onto the deck. They take a quick drink of cat-water, and then nick several bites of cat food, holding the final bite in thier bills as they swoop off to the woodlot and - one presumes - the family den of avian iniquity.


The barn cats themselves have occupied a bit of our thoughts lately. As of last night, Frito has been solitary for a week. She has been sitting and meowing plaintively, calling for Biscuit. The old tom has not answered her cries. Yesterday, I worked outside all day, and she sat in the door of the goatshed and watched me, sunning herself and washing. Near dusk, as I was finishing my chores, she came to the deck and called for her supper. I fed her and then went out to the goatshed while she was occupied.


MeeMaw and I had previously noticed that Frito has taken to sleeping in a corner of the shed. She is almost certain with kittens, and is probably trying to "nest." The corner where she rests is dry and windproof, but is on the bare earth. So I took an old pair of curtains which were marked for the trash, and I made her a bed. I also sprinkled a bit of catnip on the bed to make it smell "friendlier" to her.


This morning, I checked, and Frito was curled up on her new bed. She also looked quite stoned.


When I put food in the two bowls on the deck this morning, guess who showed up with Frito? I scolded Biscuit roundly for his scoundrelish ways, but Frito seemed to be all forgiving and loving. I'm sure she's relieved (as we are) that he's still alive. I will confess that I had already written him off. "Biscuit's dead," I told MeeMaw last night. So good to be wrong on this one.



We also had some other company. Mr. D's fenceline has a break in it up in the woodlot, and one of his bull calves made it through. We noticed him when we saw all the bovines gathered at the fence under the pine tree, their favorite afternoon get-together. First, we noticed that the beasts all looked like the Amityville Cows. Then we noticed that one of them was standing on our side of the fence.


This young bull has wandered all over Possum Cough for the past two days. As I type these words, he's made his way down onto the gravel road, and is grazing along the side of the ditch. Untouched greenery...like a salad bar. His herd-mates are lowing at him in envy. Mr. D will show up at some point and cuss him and corral him. But for now, he's happy in his beefy rebellion. He should be proud of himself. He's shown himself to be a regular hamburger Houdini when it comes to fences.



Houdini...that made me think of an old Gilbert O'Sullivan song, Houdini Said. I wish I could find that song on YouTube, but it's not there. A very quirky tune, that one...like something the Beatles would have written after reading some Sylvia Plath poetry.


Back to yesterday...when we got up, it was gorgeous, blue jays and all. MeeMaw made breakfast, and she included a message for y'all. Look closely, now...

After we ate, we headed south to Kingsport, where the big Home Show was going on at the Meadowview Convention Center (same place where we attended the Farm Show not long ago). We paid our four bucks, went in and wandered around, registered for scads of door prizes (including the big daddy of door prizes, a $1000 shopping spree at Lowe's), and then left. It was not nearly as much fun as the Farm Show. But we did get some nifty souveniers. MeeMaw got a bamboo plant, and we got pens and pencils and free bottled water (I love opening the icebox and seeing "American Pest Patrol Exterminators"-brand mineral water on the top shelf). Our big score was two old-fashioned wooden yardsticks, courtesy of a hardware store. My grandmother used to use a very similar yardstick to spat my recalcitrant little legs when I was a laddie. So I'm saving one of these for the grandbabies, present and future.

Re-reading that last sentence, I just realized that I make myself out to be a terror with children. This is untrue. It is very likely that I will never be able to bring myself to spank a grandchild (though I love to use the phrase "I'm gonna whip some hind-ends!" every chance I get). I don't want the little ones to fear me. I want them to know me. I look forward to sharing my experiences with them. Like the time I was asked to play a small part in a Seinfeld episode. Y'all may have missed that one. If you watch it, you'll immediately recognize me as the shirtless fellow on the far left.

Where was I? Oh, yesterday. We left the Home Show and went over to the Kingsport Public Library's annual book sale. It was pretty overwhelming to the eyes to scan tens of thousands of books, looking for something one wants. By the time we left, we had quite a haul, at less than one dollar per book.

After the book-buying spree, I took MeeMaw to Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Do they have one of these near any of y'all? Their beef tastes really fresh, and the company boasts that they use NO MICROWAVES. This of course appealed to me. The government! Potato salad!

On the drive home, we passed the Lynn Garden feed store where they've been advertising chicks and seed 'taters. We stopped and chatted up the owner for some 'tater advice. For what we want and the space we're planning to have plowed, the owner felt that Blue Goose potatoes were our best bet. So, we now own 50 pounds of Blue Goose taters, 'waiting to be cut up and planted in the south pasture. I love the way the bag looks.

Back up into Virginia, we made a detour off Highway 71 onto the Gillenwater Loop, which goes down around the Clinch River. The water is high, thanks to all the rain the Lord has sent us this year.

And while driving up into the mountains, when we were in Reed Holler, we stopped and MeeMaw took this photo of the waterfall.

Once we got home and unloaded 50 lbs of taters and 45 lbs of books (and two yardsticks), I changed into my work clothes and tackled the first warm-weather chore of the season: installing latticework around the back deck. Too many varmints, critters,and assorted mammals have tried to call the area under the deck "home," so we're putting a stop to that.

I posed for this photo so that I could tell lies to the grandchildren someday about my home improvement exploits.

But the truth is that MeeMaw did all the work, ably assisted by the Addington's ancient Bassett hound, Gus.

Gus then came over to waller around with me for a minute. Then he pooped in our yard, right in front of me, and I whipped his hind end. Lessons of life, loved ones. Lessons of life.

Before I forget, let me ask for prayer for some of those whom we love. My good friend Mark, in Florida, lost his job. He's been an I.T. consultant for the same company for 14 years, and last week, he and some other consultants were called into the office and told, "You don't work here anymore." No notice, no benefits, no nothing. He has young children, and his wife is looking to the future with a nervous eye. Also, our friends Harry and Stephanie are experiencing some severe trials these days with health-related issues. And as always, Mother needs grace and mercy in her daily situation. Please remember them when you talk to the Father tonight.

MeeMaw is stretching out for her ter-ditional Sunday afternoon nap. If it weren't so windy, I'd go outside and read. But I guess I'll settle for a book and some bluegrass hymns. Speaking of hymns, here is an old song by Don Williams. Though it was written as a country song, I think it's more honest and beseeching and genuine than anything written by the CCM crowd. The song is "Lord, I Hope This Day Is Good."

Rest well, loved ones.