An evening in Central Georgia: Griffin to Columbus to Macon and back

Yesterday after appearing in court on two cases and settling both (at least temporarily) I had two closings to complete in Columbus and Wilkinson County (near Macon). Cindy decided she had not had enough time with me, so she volunteered to come along. For the first time, Cindy joined me on my nocturnal travels to close loans in peoples' homes. So, around three thirty, we hopped in the car and headed to Columbus. Cindy got to see the view one can find when travelling south on Ga 85 from Woodbury over the spine of Pine Mountain to Manchester. She got to see the southern route through Harris County into Muscogee County. We got to see the stars from Ga 80 through West Central Georgia, and finally made it to Macon, where I deposited her at Dillards while I headed down the road toward Ivey, Georgia.

Ivey, Georgia? I had no idea. Apparently, Ivey is the recreational area serving the rest of Wilkinson County. In the darkness, where I couldn't see much of anything, I headed eastward toward Milledgeville, then headed west from South Jones County toward Gordon, Georgia. Yeah, me neither. Anyway, when I got to Gordon, the residential homes were suddenly supplanted by a huge outdoor industrial facility that I couldn't recognize. I headed into town and saw an old train depot. I assumed that Gordon might be the county seat of Wilkinson County, but I couldn't pick out a courthouse. My borrower met me in the center of town and we headed eastward out of town toward Ivey. Ivey? The factories disappeared and we came into a more residential area, punctuated with a lawyer's office (the only one I saw)and then could spot a lake over which we drove. Coming to the other side, I saw a convenience store which looked like the perfect place to buy a six pack, some cans of potted meat and maybe some bait.

At any rate, not needing any of that...wait, maybe the six pack, any way, we turned left and I came upon a small yellow two story house, with the shadow of a giant snow man covering the front. I looked down and discovered a small snowman with flood lights shining on it from below. The three foot tall plastic snowman was casting a twenty foot shadow. Pretty cool.

Anyway, we continued on to the borrower's house and sat down in his great room to go over the documents. I asked about the factories and he informed me that they processed chalk there. Apparently, I was in a big kaolin area. Kaolin is the substance used in paper, sheetrock and other products. It does have quite a lot of uses. However, apparently the old folks used to eat kaolin to leach out impurities in their systems. It was once common to find older people in this area reaching down and grabbing some of the greyish clay to eat in order to make themselves feel better. This concept is doubtful, but it was once a common practice in areas where kaolin was found.

Later, I headed back into the darkness, back to Macon, back to the Barnes and Nobles in North Macon and Cindy. I left Wilkinson County and the clay-eaters behind and Cindy and I got to eat ribs and listen to blues music for our late suppers. I think we both had a good time. As much fun as could be found on a dark Winter night in Wilkinson County and its environs, it was nice to drive through the area with Cindy, holding hands and listening to Christmas music. It was even better to get home.

It is now a dark morning. I have finished my cup of tea and the dog is asleep on the couch. Later, we will drive up to Dunwoody to celebrate my birthday. A day early. La de da.

Privacy vs. Expression

I was listening to a story on NPR about the meaning of the Wikileaks scandal. The First Amendment right is absolute. I tend toward the Hugo Black definition of the First Amendment. Hugo Black read the First Amendment as an absolute right, short of using expression as a weapon, like yelling "fire" in a movie theater. I accept that constitutional explanation of the right. After all, the words are clear. "Congress shall make no law" concerning freedom of expression. To read it otherwise is to take the words and add to them. By adding to them, we subtract from the perfection of the right.

The right to freedom of expression should be construed as an absolute. The framers saw a free marketplace of ideas. It shouldn't matter whether we agree with the idea or not. The marketplace has to be free in order to ensure that bad ideas are shown to be bad and good ideas are allowed to rise to the top. It is only by allowing the free exercise of expression that we ensure true freedom in its purest form.

The right to privacy has had a difficult birth. In Griswold v. Connecticut, the Supreme Court used unconvincing argument to create a right which should have been self-evident. The difficulty is when freedom of expression and freedom of privacy bump heads. Some might consider this the constitutional basis of the whole Wikileaks controversy. A lot of people think government has a right to privacy.

But this is a confusion between the right to privacy and the need for privacy. Obviously, governments need privacy in certain situations. However, this is very different from the right to privacy which is reserved for individuals.

However, there is probably a big difference between how we treat the Wikileaks founder and how we treat the private who leaked the sensitive communications. There is also a difference how we probably should treat the private who leaked these communications and the people who, in their jobs, allowed these private communications to be available to the troubled private who leaked them to Wikileaks.

I can't see punishing the Wikileaks founder for leaking these communications. The private, on the other hand, is a different situation. He deserves punishment for leaking these secrets. He had a responsibility to keep these matters secret. By leaking them, he violated his fiduciary duties, his professional duties.

It may be important to keep these private governmental communications secret, but there, perhaps, shouldn't be a constitutional right to privacy for governmental communications.

The marketplace must provide a forum.

Aloneness

I am alone.
December at night
The stars twinkle clearly
In the vast velvet
So many stars, so, so cold
So far away
And emptiness between
So much nothingness
The stars teasing from above.

Orion, guard me through the night

I woke before the sun rose this morning and took a shower, shaved and dressed before Cindy. After walking the dog, I left for Rome and an eviction hearing set for nine this morning. The dark angel was riding through Northwest Georgia today and it was very wintery. The air was as clear as ice and the skies were baby blue. I was wearing a suit and topcoat and carrying a sweater and heavy coat and gloves.

Today was foreclosure day in Georgia and I had thirty five cryouts from Perry to Columbus to Dalton and to Homer. That about covered most of North Georgia. After calling the calendar in Magistrate Court in Floyd County, the judge ordered me to mediate the eviction with the post-foreclosure tenant. After discussing the matter with her and the mediator, I realized it was after ten o'clock and I had foreclosures to cryout, so I gave them an ultimatum and we settled the matter in enough time for me to head out into the sunshine with several characters from Rome for my first foreclosure. Afterward, I drove up to Calhoun for round two, Dalton for round three, and then on to Jasper, Canton, Cartersville and Cedartown.

Amazingly, I got through by three o'clock and headed down the long way, I think through Carrollton and Newnan to Griffin. This evening I had to drive to a closing near Gray (east of Macon) and come back home by nine to go buy a hamburger and fries for my supper. Thankfully, I had enough time to eat some navy bean soup before I left for Gray.

Well, it is time to call it a night. Tomorrow will be a day of rest, of sorts. It is supposed to get back down to twenty tonight. We'll see. I do enjoy the look of December in Georgia. All the leaves on the ground. The pines with their green needles. Everything so clean and clear. Blue skies. And now, at night, I can see Orion with his scabbard and his spear. Sentinel of the Winter sky.

The dying of another year

This is the last day of November. November rolls in on a cool breeze, with colored leaves and the last days of football season. November leaves us with rain and cold winds and the end of expectations. The old year is slowly dying. The days are interminably darker, shorter. Still, I am riding the tide of coming birthdays and Christmas around the corner. In another thirty days, the last great season of darkness and artificial lights will end with New Year's.

When I was a teenager, I loved New Years. My parents stayed out late and came home after midnight. We went to sleep in a new year, with new possibilities and the chances of a new year. The next day was football followed by football followed by football until we ended with the Orange Bowl which was always played in Miami under the lights. I could have allegiances which bore no relation to any school I had attended. Nothing was personal. Everything was family. We cheered for schools our parents attended, or in states in which we had lived.

We ate blackeyed peas and greens and feasted on pork. Corn bread with butter. There were traditions to live by. Rules. How many of those rules are around now? Everything is tenuous, temporal and temporary.

Alas.

November morning at the beach

Are you supposed to sleep late when you are on vacation? I was reading a New Yorker article from 2006 and the interviewed person, a real Bohemian from Greenwich Village in New York, was talking about feeling lost when he didn't stay awake until four in the morning. I couldn't do that. I woke today around six. I watched the sun come up at the east end of the beach (St George faces southerly) and walked westerly down the beach to the cut. No one joined me. At least no one from my immediate family. The gulls were out on the surf, chasing the water for breakfast. They were screaming at the blue skies. Later, after I had sat down on the rocks and watched some early risers scrambling over the rip rap to catch a fish or two in the frigid November water in the Gulf. I walked back to the condo and climbed up the stairs and ate breakfast. That's a morning that's hard to beat.

Thanksgiving Vacation, Day Two

Are you supposed to sleep late when you are on vacation? I was reading a New Yorker article from 2006 and the interviewed person, a real Bohemian from Greenwich Village in New York, was talking about feeling lost when he didn't stay awake until four in the morning. I couldn't do that. I woke today around six. I watched the sun peer over the eastern horizon like a small orange stub. I ate granola and yogurt and drank two glasses of orange juice. Then I walked out of the house and walked down the beach to the cut, a place in St. George Island where the government cut an inlet between two parts of the island for boats to escape rough seas to the safety of the bay.

When I got to the cut, the waves were rolling heavy through the inlet toward the bay. Several fishermen had moved inward toward the bay to escape the waves. As I headed back down the beach toward the rented house, I saw a father and son with fishing equipment. I told them the water was really rough down there. I don't think they understood me.

I took naps throughout the day and tried to avoid taking calls on my cellphone. I had to take a few. I had to turn down a total of five closings they wanted me to conduct over the next few days. I did take one scheduled for next Monday.

Later.

St. George Island in November

We drove down US 19 from Griffin to Tallahassee, then over I-10 to the turnoff toward St. George Island. We made it around four o'clock to the beach. After getting everything settled in, we finally headed over to the Blue Parrott for seafood and a nice cold beer. I had my first installment of raw Apalachicola oysters this afternoon and Cindy gave me about ten fried oysters as well. Everything was so perfect, sitting outside, listening to the waves crashing on the beach, drinking beer and eating oysters. It was so perfect I turned down the key lime pie. For some of you that may seem sacreligous; however, it was already just too perfect. There will be plenty of time for key lime pie. And there just so many oysters in the bay, and I am just one man. And I only have a week.

As Mel Brooks said in Blazing Saddles, "Work, work, work."

Ha!

Gifts, Christmas and Anxiety

Cindy and I driving up to Dunwoody this afternoon, and the subject of Christmas came up, which is appropriate at this time of November. I suppose we all are thinking about Christmas, worrying about making sure we get something appropriate for everyone on our lists.

Lists, lists. Do we really need to make sure that everyone is equally gifted? Do we need to draw names? Is it really important to set a limit for how much we spend on everyone? Is it important to fulfill lists for Christmas gifts? Should we stick to the list or is it appropriate to shop and use our imaginations to find the right gift for our loved ones?

When I was a child, my parents made a great effort to ensure that each of us three children were equally gifted. This process was good for us kids, but I wonder if it didn't just drive my parents a little crazy sometimes trying to make sure we were all equally taken care of.

I remember one time finding what I thought was the perfect gift for my grandmother: a print of Bethel College, where my aunt and my grandmother went to high school. I knew she would enjoy it and Cindy and I had it framed for Christmas. It turned out to be a nice gift which was later passed to my aunt, when my grandmother passed away. Of course, the ultimate cost of the gift dwarfed most of the other gifts we gave to others that Christmas, but I really didn't feel bad about this unequal gift and I don't think anyone felt slighted.

At the same time, I sometimes think we go overboard in our gift-giving at Christmas. We struggle to ensure that everyone is adequately gifted, with no one receiving more or less than the other. It ends creating a lot of anxiety and hides the real reason why we celebrate Christmas.

I would love to simplify the process. Erase the anxiety. Relax and enjoy the season.

Its a thought.

Peaceful journey

When you drive down Georgia 85 from Woodbury, south toward Manchester, the road runs straight south and up the side of Pine Mountain, where a farm sits atop the ridgetop. In the twilight of the early evening, the pink and orange of the afternoon sun glows through the trees and bushes off toward Columbus and Pine Mountain. The car eases across the ridge and heads downward toward the flickering lights of Manchester.

Afterward, I head back north across the same route and the road runs up to the ridgeline and the stars are thrown across the sky as the crisp November air is dry and clear. It is rare to see another car, or even lights across the fields. It is only after you clear the top of Pine Mountain that you can see the lights of Woodbury off in the distance, down below the heights of the mountain. By the time you get to Woodbury, the cars are parked haphazardly in the darkness around the old juke joint, the patrons standing, talking in the darkness.

It is a short drive from Woodbury to Manchester and back. But it provides a significant bit of peace as you drive down and back in the growing darkness.

November moonlight

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
Tonight I rode Georgia 85 up from Manchester
And the road led me up over Pine Mountain
And the stars were thrown across the skies
Down in Woodbury, an old black gentleman
Wore his old fatigue jacket
And tended a fire in an oil drum
To ward off the November chill
And waved mutely as I passed the juke joint


My path turned east toward Molena,
A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
And I passed the houses, light shining
Through the drawn drapes on the front windows
The blue of the television glowing in the darkness
The moon illuminating the pastures as I passed
The dark shapes of cattle lying in the fields

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder
As I passed through Zebulon
My path pivoted around the courthouse square
The red brick courthouse standing stern
Lit up by the streetlights surrounding the building
The lights of the police station glowing in the darkness
Ever vigilant, ever standing guard

A silver crescent moon was on my shoulder

Ambulance chasers

Perspective. I try to keep calm and create perspective in my mind which might allow me to understand. I was listening to a television show and they were referring to "ambulance chasers" and I understand the source of the sentiment, I guess. You know, I wanted to be a lawyer so I would have be someone who had stature in the community. But I have met some lawyers who I would have assumed would be leaders in their communities and lawyers don't necessarily have a monopoly on leadership ability. I know that most politicians seem to be lawyers. I don't necessarily know why that is. A lot of people who go through college like myself, without a degree which would lead to a life of practical money-making, end up in law school. Kind of a second choice choice of life. I guess most of the politicians probably don't practice much law. John Edwards may be the only one I can think of who actually used his law degree to make a living (read: fortune) before he went into politics. His problem was he was just too good to be true. Rose too quickly and fell even quicker. I think a couple others were prosecutors, but, Hell, most of them only prosecuted for a couple of years before they went into politics and left the law behind. Of course, politicians aren't much higher than lawyers in public sentiment. On the other hand, we seem to give them our adoration and votes every two years. Or even quicker. We are required to elect them to fill the posts. The posts we create to take care of our governmental needs.

Still, lawyers aren't held in much high regard these days. It is sad. The thing I wanted just doesn't seem to be available on the modern occupational market. Oh well. Its hard to keep up anyway. I probably make people happy or mad in equal proportions. Today, I kept a client out of jail. Her accuser isn't very happy with me about now. Join the club. I am sure the ones who aren't happy probably just label me as an ambulance chaser. Or something worse. Its hard to justify yourself sometimes.

"I almost cut my hair...."

I wonder if my mother has any pictures of me with a beard from back when I was in college and would grow a beard in the Winter. I included this picture because it contains a likeness of a nice young man from Tulsa, Oklahoma named Claude. Claude was a young musician who travelled to Los Angeles to make a name for himself as a keyboardist, singer and producer.

He was part of the Wrecking Crew which was a group of musicians who backed other acts in the recording studios to provide a professional sound. A lot of the Beach Boys music was actually the Wrecking Crew, as were the Mommas and the Poppas, the Grass Roots, pretty much anyone who recorded in Southern California in the 60's.

Some of the Wrecking Crew made it as acts themselves. Glen Campbell, for instance. Dr. John. And this guy. From the picture, you might recognize the young man in the middle as Gary Lewis, son of Jerry Lewis and the drummer and signer for Gary Lewis and the Playboys. His mother is next to him. The man on the right is Snuff Garrett, a record producer for Liberty Records.

The clean cut young Oklahoman is Leon Russell. You might only think of him with a long beard and white hair. It just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover.

Hacking Weekend

It is Sunday evening. Yesterday began in a hotel bed in Dunwoody, then progressed to a borrower's house in Martinez, Georgia, near Augusta. Afterward, I drove back to Dunwoody where I settled into watching football and making dressing. In the middle of the afternoon, I went upstairs and got on line to see what was going with W&L and Hampden Sydney. Georgia had alreay taken the measure of Idaho State and found them lacking. Fortunately, W&L's offense kept them in the lead. They had two runners with heavy totals and their quarterback was on. Apparently, the defense did a good job too, creating five turnovers in the first half to give them a big lead.

Now they have won the Conference Championship and will play in the NCAA playoffs. That is the second time in five years. That is great.

Cindy and I have developed colds or something and we are on Musenex and cough drops and it makes us wake up in the middle of the night, which keeps us sleepy throughout the day. Well, Dunwoody won and the Falcons won. Sports highs can take you only so far. There is always another week, another set of games. You can only expect so much.

Upstate New York

It did look and feel like Fall today. Actually, it looked and felt that why probably more than any other day we have had. Of course, Cindy said we weren't actually in Fall yet. I don't think that is right. It actually felt like the beginning of Winter, and I know we are far away from that. It will be December before we know it and we will be wondering where the year went. Perhaps some people are already thinking about that. What a cliche.

I saw a musician that I had never heard about today on a recording of the Jimmy Fallon show. He was strange and his dad worked for IBM like me. Maybe the children of IBMers suffer from a desire to be a bit strange. That sounded a bit too autobiographical. He was originally from Endicott, New York, where one of the main offices of IBM is located.

When I was a boy, I recognized a lot of the cities spreading north and west from New York City. For instance, the Petries on the Dick Van Dyke Show lived in New Rochelle, a small town which apparently was one of the original Huegenot communities in America. Then you have White Plains, Armonk and Endicott, which were offices of IBM. My dad had to go there often when he worked for IBM. I am surprised we never ended up there at one time or another.

Boy, I would have been a rebel up there. I probably would have got my butt kicked quite often. I would have either got tough or beaten up. All in all, it's probably better that I stayed in Georgia.

Well, Go Generals!

A cold morning

Fall fell heavily today. I drove into work and it was very cool and wet from the rain we had last night. I left the office to pick up the mail and noticed that the thermometer in the car read '48' which is awful cool for eleven in the morning in Central Georgia. As the morning felt the effects of a drizzle, it was even colder, or seemed so.

Now, I am waiting for a loan package so I can close something in McDonough this afternoon. Not too far away. But my car is in the shop getting tuned up and some minor matters handled. Meanwhile, I am driving Kate's car around town until I can swap them out in the morning. It has its problems, but apparently not as much as my car.

I am still thinking about the W&L vs. Hampden Sydney game on Saturday. I guess I will be thinking about it until Saturday is over.

Well, so far so good.

Time to remove the favorites

It was definitely Autumn today and when I left my car in the Walton County Courthouse parking lot, I began to wonder if I had not underdressed this morning. Fortunately, it had warmed up a bit by the time I hit Winder and Barrow County. By the time I hit Canton (Cherokee County) it was downright balmy.

Of course, the hits of my trip were the flock of wild turkeys I saw in the front yard of a single wide mobile home in Lumpkin County and the sign for the Kangaroo Conservation Facility in Dawson County. I told Kate about this and we are both nonplussed about the presence of kangaroos in Dawson County. We thought that perhaps the good citizens of Dawson County may have mistaken large oppossums for their cousins. Kate, in particular, thought that when mistaken for kangaroos, the oppossums might turn to the camera and put their forefinger to their lips as to stop any attempts to correct the confusion.

That is assuming that oppossums have lips.

By the end of the day, I was happy that I was back home. Usually, by the time I am headed back home and hit around the airport or North Clayton, my buttocks begin to cramp up and give me fits. I enjoy the travel, but I am glad I only do that once a month.

The Giants eliminated the Rangers last night and won the World Series. I am trying to be philosophical and think that that reflects well on the Braves who were just an out or two away from beating the Giants in the Division Series. Otherwise, I am still rather blase about the series.

It is definitely football season now, despite the presence of NBA basketball and NHL hockey. I cannot get my mind beyond the W&L game against Hampton Sydney on Saturday. I am shooting positive thoughts and vibes up toward Lexington. I would appreciate any thoughts and vibes that will be offered in that regard. When I was at W&L, the football crowns were shared between Hampton Sydney and Randolph Macon and there were no scraps for the rest of us in the conference. This is a good opportunity for a little parity to rear its beautiful head and shine kindly on my alma mater this weekend. Another trip to the NCAAs would be nice.

I am going to continue to mention the Generals every day until Sunday.

Punch Brothers: W&L Fight Song

I like any version of my alma mater's fight song. This was performed recently by Punch Brothers at the Lime Kiln Theater outside Lexington, Virginia. I love it. This is still the best fight song, if only because it is the only one which is a Dixie Land Jazz song. There are some great versions of the song. This is only one of them. I include this for the week leading up to the Washington and Lee v. Hampden Sydney on Saturday, November 6th. We can only hope that the Generals will do it to the Tigers on Saturday in Lexington. Perhaps, then, we can celebrate with as many versions of the W&L Swing as I can find on the internet, on record, cd or otherwise.

Let's go Generals. Ring Tum Phi Stickeri Bum. We're the boys from Lexington!!!!

Punch Brothers - Rye Whiskey

This is my favorite song from The Punch Brothers, a band which combines traditional music with more modern songs. This song is perhaps an homage to the original Rye Whiskey, which is an Irish song which was borrowed by southerners after the Civil War. I like this version. It is funny and uses tempo and surprise to make an interesting song. Enjoy.

November

Today November rears its hoary head and gives us Georgians cool, sweater weather in the morning and evening and a warm day in the middle. This is my favorite weather and one of the reasons I enjoy this state as much as I do. Sure, I can't go to the beach in late November, and everything turns grey and brown by the time this month is ready to end, but that's alright. I enjoy that type of weather from time to time.

Meanwhile, I am reminded of a few years ago when Kate was attending Presbyterian College and Cindy and I drove up to Clinton, via Greenville, and were heading back to Griffin and decided to drive through Commerce and Athens and Madison and Monticello and Jackson to get back home.

It was late afternoon in November. It was the time of year when the the leaves have left the trees and a lot of late afternoon light shows through the branches of the trees. Of course, the evergreens are still prevalent. Little cedars growing on the old fencerows. And as we drove down 441 from Commerce toward Athens, we could see the afternoon colors showing through the trees.

The heater was providing warmth in the car and there was little traffic on the old Federal highway. I found that it provided a peace of mind that is tangible but almost incomprehensible. Incomprehensible because there really wasn't a cause for the feelings of peace and satisfaction, other than the mere beauty of the light fading through the trees.

I truly enjoyed the ride. Later, when we made it to Madison, you could see the amazing old homes in Madison, ante-bellum, victorian, and the lights from the businesses that were still open. It was delightful.

Later, when we made it to Monticello, I stopped and drove through the drive through at Dairy Queen and bought some cold, sweet treats for Cindy and myself. We drove in the darkness toward Jackson and home with the child-like delight of memories, complete sensual sweetness and peace of the early nightfall.

It made the lights of home that much more delightful.

Who says men can't multi-task?

This morning, when I woke up, rather late for a Sunday morning, I took the dog out to do his business, made my breakfast, ate my breakfast, made Cindy's coffee, served Cindy's coffee, went to the grocery to buy items for making a side dish for church supper today, came home, made the side dish, took a shower in which I bathed the dog as well, dried myself, dried the dog, rinsed out the shower, dressed for church, vacuumed part of the bedroom where a frame had broken, tied my bow tie, watched most of CBS Sunday Morning and waited for Cindy to be ready to drive to church. At this point, someone asked me if I wasn't suffering from some mental disability because I had forgot the ice and altoids when I went to the grocery.

Afterward, I took the dog out again, packed the side dish for transfer to church, got into the car with Cindy, drove to church, removed the side dish and took it to the church kitchen and placed it inside a warming oven, drove Cindy to a parking space where she could complete her makeup, walked into church and said hello to several members of the church as I went to choir, put my choir robe on, gathered my music, went into the choir room where I practiced the anthem with the choir, sang in the choir during the service, joined Cindy afterward, went to the family center where I ate dinner, joined the adults who were involved with entertainment for the children, participated in the children's games, drove us home, separated and took out the trash, drove Kate's car to the self serve carwash and washed and vacuumed the car, got into a two hour conversation with a friend I ran into at the car wash, drove to the bank to get cash, drove to the grocery to buy food for making supper,including ice, altoids and candy for any stray trick-or-treaters who might come around tonight, drove home, made supper, served supper, including steak, salad and home made macaroni and cheese, started cleaning up supper, blew the pine straw and leaves off the driveway and front walk, readied the front for any trick-or-treaters, put the extra food away including lunch for Cindy for tomorrow, watched a little tv, went upstairs, napped for awhile, filled a foot massager with warm water and soap for Cindy, placed the foot massager on a towel for Cindy, read facebook notices, started this blog, took the dog out, continued to clean up the pots and pans from supper, tried to clean up a bit in the kitchen.

At this point, someone said that we hadn't accomplished the things we needed to do on Sunday afternoon and would need to take care of it in the evenings during the week.

Pay attention to the Little Football too, folks

Well, today started off with me waking up at 7:45 and realizing I had to meet with clients at 8:00. So I brushed my teeth, dressed, tried to comb my unruly hair and hopped in my car to go to the home of the borrowers. Afterward, I drove over to Hardees to get some breakfast, stopped by the bank for some cash, then headed home.

Afterward, I spoke with a rep from the lender and found that I needed signatures on three more documents, so I contacted the borrowers, and headed back to their home for further signatures. I got to go to the office and the post office and actually take a shower and shave.

Afterward, Cindy and I headed up to Dunwoody where we picked Kate up and drove to a Vietnamese/Louisiana seafood store on Buford Highway, the former "touch of country in the city", where we ate shrimp po-boys and drank Louisiana tea, then headed back to Dunwoody to shop for Christmas and birthdays. I picked up a pair of kelly green chuck taylors for my better coolness in dress.

Afterward, I headed back to Mom's house to find that Washington and Lee had won again, to find themselves tied with Hampden Sydney, who is undefeated and rated number 19 in the country, and guess what, we get to play them next Saturday on Wilson Field in Lexington, my old home field at W&L. I wish I could be in Lexington next Saturday, but I think Momma's birthday is a little more important. Perhaps they will win and I will be able to see them playing in the NCAA Division Three playoffs. That would be sweet.

So I know it is "little football" and the players are a little closer to being normally sized and I realize that we produce more lawyers, doctors and businessmen than NFL football players, but it will be a big game on Saturday, no matter what. And all of the players actually belong in college. Something you can't necessarily say about the guys you see on the field on your television every Saturday.

Well, that is enough. Ring Tum Phi Stickeri Bum, We're the boys from Lexington....

I wish I had a copy of The Punch Brothers playing the Washington and Lee Swing in Rockbridge County this Fall. I will just add that to my facebook page. Still one of the best fight songs in American College athletics. And the only one which is also a Dixieland Jazz song.

Friday night in the Fall

Friday has arrived which means that the weekend is almost over, which is somewhat pessimistic, but I was listening to the radio, while I drove around Griffin, and a local pundit (they are everywhere) stated that in his opinion the bulldogs were going to get beat by Florida by a few points. This was disapointing, since I had come to the opinion that Georgia would beat Florida by a few points tomorrow. I am now sad because Georgia will play Florida tomorrow and tomorrow night W&L will play Catholic tomorrow night. If I can only get one victory tomorrow, let it be W&L. They have more to lose and more to gain. So go Generals! The Falcons don't play.

I have got a closing first thing in the morning, and I do mean first thing, eight o'clock a.m. That is awful early for a real estate closing to me.

I am in need of changing into my pajamas, so carry on, boys and girls.

I do remember

There is a portly dude, who was just one of the guys at school, pretty funny, fun to be around in the dorm room, enjoyed his beer and the occasional grain party out in the country, and he had an uncle who was something for awhile, which maybe gave him the notion that he was something as well, I don't know, don't really care, but anywy he left home and ended up in California, like every other American notion, and now he is on the little rectangle and the big one and the one you bought at the movie store for $9.99, because it was pre-viewed and the damn thing has a glitch in the middle where it jerks and becomes snowy, but you can still see him and he seems lost, kind of like he did when he wandered into your dorm room that night and ended up listening to music on the floor and fell asleep and you closed the door and turned off the lights, and your girlfriend at the time was really irritated because she couldn't figure out why you wanted to let him just sleep there, but it was alright and you wonder now if he even remembers things like that, incidents when he was just a junior in the dorm and had too much to drink and fell asleep while some music you don't even listen to played and woke up and left without saying anything until you saw him in the dining hall and smiled and he nodded his head and you really think that was the last time you spoke to him until after graduation and he hugged your mother and danced away, off to California and sunshine and wine and fun with this celebrity and that one and there is probably a cute blonde who thinks he is funny and he is happy and making loads of money and partying with all the actors and television people and working on this project or that and you wonder if he remembers you as you drive into work in the morning, listening to top 40 radio and they are talking about local celebrities and his name came up and you thought, "hey, I wonder if he remembers that time he fell asleep in my dorm room?"

He looks good in the picture.

A run at the night

I love technology. I decided that before I went to bed that I would enter a post on my blog. It seemed like I had forgotten to write, although I had been entering little posts on facebook, which is fun, but doesn't fulfill like this does. This is more complex and more full and doesn't cowtow to others. I write this and you can't stop me, nah nah nah nah nah.

Then I got caught up in google-ville, where I couldn't access my blogsite, because I couldn't seem to remember my user name or my password. And I wandered around staring at the halls of electronic cubbyholes which didn't lead me anywhere except back where I started from and then I figured it out and here I am and I am now obligated to write something else and my brain is frittering.

I watched a program on a rock and roll photographer who photographed all the famous rock guitarists for the last thirty years, but is stuck trying to sell his work so he can take care of his mother who has altheimers. It got me thinking. I seem to lose my ability to come up with words from time to time and I think my brain needs exercise. The short sprints of facebook are unavailing. I need something which will require me to run for long distances. My body needs that and my brain needs that.

So here I am. I'll go to bed soon, but need to run a bit more. Its raining tonight, and I have been out in it every time I tried to get in my car. Fortunately, I am at home now and I am soon going to bed, so this is it and goodnight.

Macon-time

I drove down to Macon and had to drive up from the hospital, where they apparently have no independent computers, short of the computer system which probably has a monitor and keyboard in front of every employee other than the security gaurd who had to leave his post and go ask someone if there were any computers available. Odd.

Anyway, the borrower and I had to drive up to the north side of Macon and find our way to the Fedex Office (formerly Kinko's) so I could use their computers and download some documents for our closing.

After completing this task, I waited for the borrower to arrive. When she got there, we walked into the Panera's next door and found a table. After going through the closing documents, we bid adieu and I got in line to buy a sandwich, chips, pastry and iced tea.

I sat down at the same table I had left with the borrower and started to eat lunch. I looked around. The only thing which was ridiculous as the configuration of the restaurant was the number of laptops in the place. Almost every other table had at least one laptop, some had two.

I couldn't figure it out. Most of the laptop owners/users seemed to be using them as table decorations as they talked with each other. Was it some kind of status symbol?
I had to leave the world of laptop decorations. I got in my car and drove back to Griffin, where laptops are used on laps when one wants to compute something, rather than when our tables need decoration.

Sometimes progress is just an excuse for upgrading our statuses.

Baseball is over here

Yesterday evening, I went to bed knowing that the Braves had been eliminated and Bobby Cox had come to his last day as manager of the Braves. A year which had so much promise and opportunity, which had shown a lot of pluck and effort and a little bit of luck. But now it was over. Quite sad.

Tonight, Texas eliminated Tampa Bay. Poor Ed. He was at the game. That would be hard.

Baseball begins in Spring, when the world is recreating itself again. Soft green grass and pastel flowers appearing on the ground. Azaleas in bloom. Pure white blossoms of the dogwoods among the evergreens. There is so much possibility and newness.

But it ends in Autumn, when the year is dying and heading toward Winter and the end of the year. We want it to last another week, another couple of weeks. But the gig is up now. They had a story on the news tonight and they showed the players removing their possessions from their lockers. They were talking about who would manage next year.

Something special is over. Possibility will return next Spring.

Meantime, football is in full swing, not halfway over.

Full circle

"My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy...."

I drove Cindy to work in the morning. The radio played as we traveled the streets to Griffin Technical College. After dropping her off, I continued to my office. The cars around me swirled around as if I were in an eddy of a river and the water was moving around me, independently, uncontrollably. The light in the morning was silver, flowing like mercury around me and I felt like I was tied to the ground, trapped in mud. My feet of mud, also.

I slogged toward my office and the car stopped and I stepped out onto the drive. Today, I received a small gift as I stepped across the parking lot. The aroma of one of the flowering bushes swelled up from off the drive. It caught my attention and I had to stand still and try to find the source of the sweet smell. In hindsight, I think I found it. I don't know.

I lurched up the wooden stairs, grasping the handrail on the stairwell. I looked above to see if someone was there, awaiting me. There wasn't. I was alone on the second floor. I grasped the small, hard key to my office from my pocket and inserted it into the lock.

I opened the door and found the mess I had left when I left my office on the previous Saturday afternoon. I sat down heavily in my chair. I turned on the computer and I looked out the window. The leaves on the trees were turning. An ambulance drove by on the street below, its siren throbbing through the windows and the shades.

I tried to do something, anything. I completed some tasks, but it was a slow, dreadfully slow day. The next day I realized how little I had accomplished, by the mass of tasks left undone for that day.

At the end of the day, I was waiting for the time when I could leave my office and go pick up Cindy. I pulled the travel bar from my bookcase and poured myself a shot of bourbon. I turned on the music on my computer and listened to Earth, Wind and Fire sing about Autumn and lost loves. It reminded me of Lexington and college days and yearning in my dorm room for someone on the other side of the continent. The same one I would be picking up at Griffin Tech in a few minutes.

And so the world came full circle in the still, dying day. An afternoon in Autumn. Again.

Ancient battles

Theseus played for the Athens nine;
The Minotaur pitched for Minos that day
Old time Giants were taking the field,
As aroma of incense filtered down
From the Olympian concession stand.
The chorus were all seated
For a contest without rival
For the reputation of this Minotaur
Was such that all of Greece
Expected goose eggs that afternoon,
But the sun shone sweetly on all equally
And the bravery of the Athenian
Was undisputed in the antique marketplace.

"Play ball," called out the ancient bard
And the contestants then took the field
The sheen of the pristine grass shown brightly
In the heat of the afternoon sun.
As the Minotaur took his warmup tosses,
Theseus strode forward, swinging his tool
And a roar from the chorus arose
From the throats of each member
No one would expect a less
Than classical result
When Theseus and the Minotaur
Took their respective places
On either end of the diamond.

And thus it began, as the Minotaur
Reared his head back and roared
As let loose the historic first pitch
But Theseus feigned sleepy indifference
As the ball made its way to the mitt.
"Strike one" cried the referee
And the chorus bellowed disapproval
But Theseus would have none of this
And waved off the crowd's haranguing.

The Minotaur shook his bullish mane
Reared back again and let loose the pill
A second pitch so hard and fierce
As to shake the Corinthian columns
Of the ancient, marble stadium
But Theseus seemed to see nothing amiss
As "strike two" found sanctuary in the catcher's glove
The wind blew out in harmony from the Athenian chorus
As Theseus offered the assemblage a knowing smile.

So the Minotaur finally took a confident twirl
And hurled the ball once more from the hill
But the weapon of choice of that ancient hero
Gave impetus to meeting of ball and bat.
The ball took flight toward Olympian heights
As the bard licked his pen and mythologized
In the marble temple their names are now enshrined
As the beast of Minos and the nimble hero
Who laid wood to ball and sent that spheroid
To float away toward Alcatraz
From the ink-stained blackness of McCovey's cove.

Getting cooler

The other day felt like the world caving in and I was sitting with a client who also was feeling like her world was caving in and then I suggested we look outside the window and see the early Autumn world in the sunshine at the end of the afternoon. And it didn't seem so bad for a second. The lights were off in my office and the sun was shooting through the window and there was just a touch of peace in the moment. A moment of clarity came and I could give my client some decent advice. After she left, I could sit in my chair and wheel around in a circle and take a deep breath and it wasn't so bad after all.

It is getting cooler at night. The breezes come and blow the clouds across the dark purpole sky. The stars peek out from behind the moving clouds. I can hear the limbs of the trees rattling against each other. The squirrels are chattering in the trees. I used not to dislike the squirrels as much as I do now. Dad used to say that he would put flea collars on the squirrels in their yard so that if things got bad, then they could eat the squirrels. Taking care of their needs until the hard times.

Here we are in hard times and I could just eat a few squirrels around here. Just to get rid of them mainly. Not because I have any real desire to eat squirrel meat.

Its sleepy time down South. Soon, I will take Tex out for the last time and then go to bed. To bed, I go.

Stained glass windows

I drove to Columbus this afternoon. I love driving to Columbus from Griffin. The road through Pike County and the eastern part of Meriwether and on through Harris into Muscogee is quite picturesque. I particularly enjoy driving along the spine of Pine Mountain from just north of Warm Springs to the country store at Callaway Gardens. The remainder of the journey down US 27 into Columbus can be gorgeous. Today, as I drove across Pine Mountain, I encountered the changing leaves of Fall beginning on the sweet gum and poplars among the pines. A lot of the leaves are falling and you could catch glimpses of the valley to the south. Later, I drove through Hamilton, which is one of the smaller county seats, but the old courthouse still shows some of its late Victorian charm.

It made me think of some of the memorable drives I have taken over the years. I thought about the first drive that I can still remember. When I was around five years old, before we had moved from Indianapolis to Huntsville, Alabama, my parents travelled with Frank and me west to Illinois, where we visited some friends. Somewhere along the trip we passed a fallow field, in early Spring, covered in an orderly fashion with rows of the tiny mint-green sprouts of the crops planted there rising from the loam. Alongside the road upon which we drove there was a row of tall, thin trees running along the road to the left and the sun was shining down on the fields ahead of us. I don't exactly know what it was, but there was a simple beauty about that scene that caught my eye. I don't know where it was other than somewhere in central Illinois. The scene just remains in my heart. Like bits of color in stained glass, it remains a part of my life.

Thinking of Fall

It was genuinely cool when I left the house a few moments ago and walked out onto the driveway to retrieve a magazine Cindy had left in my car earlier. An Autumn breeze had kicked up and I could feel the beginning of the new season before it is here. Later I will go back out into the evening with the dog on leash.

It feels like football season and I can feel the coming of the middle of the season when the leaves turn yellow, orange and scarlet, depending on their species. The grass will dry up and turn brown. I will pull out my tweed sports coats and my flannel and corduroy pants. Perhaps I can go to a football game in full Fall garb.

One Fall, when Molly, my Brittany, was very young, we drove up to the farm and let her run free and she took a walk completely around the boundaries of the pastures. Grandmommie and Dad were still alive. One morning, I put on my corduroys and a green tartan flannel shirt and went out onto the front porch and Cindy took my picture with Molly. Molly fit with Autumn, all orange and white with feathers. Quite a fancy dog for a Fall morning.

The first time I took Molly to the farm, we walked around the stables and Molly went on point near a bush. I slowly poked around the bush and a quail broke cover and flew away. I was pretty proud of my little bird dog.

Molly was a sweet dog. She never took offense. One time she ran behind a rose bush by mistake and cut her ear in half. She yelped and then came up to me to lick my hands. A couple years later I was bathing her and trying to cut some knots that had developed in her feathers. I accidently cut her flesh and she yelped, then licked my hands. I have never been loved as much by a dog. A real lover.

I love Autumn.

Duly noted

When I took the dog out for his last trip of the evening to the grass on the side of the driveway, I was disturbed by the dog's reticence to use a particular piece of the front yard, as he stopped and smelled and sniffed and acted as if there was something missing or present where he was smelling, I suppose, which prevented him from going any further, even though both of us knew there were duties here to undertake, for him, not me, no, it is true that we both had to take care of our duties, and it seemed as if we both would be unfulfilled, but he finally found an acceptable spot to seek relief and I was able to take leave of my momentary sense of frustration and notice that the moon was full and completely filling the dark night with a special light so that the skies above my head were a deep blue with a new type of illumination as if there were a second, more brilliant moon in the sky or a second source of light. The moment passed.

Back home we go

Today started about like any other day, around seven in the morning, and I would have sung in the choir if I hadn't misplaced my billfold as I left the house and ended up finding it too late to get to church. So, I changed clothes and Cindy and I went over the living room two or three times until we had almost filled the trash can outside with enough dog hair to reconstruct a small dog or two. Perhaps they will take it back to the hair back to the lab and create a junkyard dog for the workers. We moved everything two or three times to completely delouse the downstairs common areas.

As we completed this task, the brave Falcons were pounding the Arizona Cardinals to little pieces in the Georgia Dome. At some point during the day, we were going to travel up to Dunwoody to visit mom and Kate and do some shopping, but we spoke with Kate and she was planning on coming down to us, so we stayed in Griffin and cleaned the doghair from the surfaces of the living room and kitchen and entry hall.

Finally, about the time we had finished our hair removal, Kate arrived and we talked her into staying over night, since I had straightened her room enough to provide for sleep in a comfortable bed with clean sheets.

Which left us the opportunity to hop in Kate's car and travel down Maddox Road to El Toro Loco, where we sat outside in the late warmth of the passing Summer and drank iced tea and ate Mexican food until we were full and could take our leftovers back home and head back out to Wal-Mart to shop for life's necessities.

Afterward we bought ice cream from one of the local Dairy Queens and came home to sit with the dog and watch recorded television shows for Kate. I sat in my chair in the living room, next to my wife and my dog and my daughter, and it occurred to me how enjoyable it was to have our daughter back home with us, just quietly enjoying a night at home together.

Football Saturday

Today was spent mainly in cleaning the house. I cleaned the upstairs, getting at least two bedrooms ready for company in the future and making sure the bathroom looked presentable. I had to buy three banker's boxes so I could gather all the dvd boxes in Kate's room boxed up together and the books and cd cases in the study up. Now both rooms look pretty good right now and I wouldn't have a problem with having company up there.

Meanwhile, Cindy was dusting the living room and I ended up doing a lot of vacuuming and vacuuming and vacuuming and moving furniture around and vacuuming again. Now it is around 10:00 and Clemson and Auburn are in overtime and one of the running backs for Auburn just got his clock cleaned by a cornerback. That put Auburn in a 3rd and ten situation and they couldn't connect on the pass into the end zone and now they have settled for a field goal and now Clemson has the opportunity to score a touchdown and win this thing. I am not much of a fan of either of these schools but I do think Clemson is going to win and they just got a first down on the 13 to help make my point. They are now inside the ten, but have a big, fat lineman down on the field. This has been a war of attrition today.

Georgia and Arkansas (Dawgs and Hawgs)was tight in Athens today. Arkansas had the advantage most of the game, but Georgia caught them, with Arkansas taking the lead at the end, with Georgia throwing a pass into the end zone at the end and one of the receivers just missed catching the winning pass on a jump ball.

They have taken the lineman off on a golf cart. Third and five. They can make a first down. But no, they missed the touchdown on third down. Now kick a field goal and we go again. There was penalty, clicking Clemson back five yards and the field goal kicker missed it. Auburn wins. I have a good number of Auburn graduates for friends, very few Clemson graduates. I guess I will be glad for my friends. Until the end of the season, when the red and black will have to take the blue and orange out.

Well, no more football tonight. Cindy has allowed me all my football allotment for the day. We will be watching a movie until bedtime. Of course, I rarely care much about the west coast games anyway.

Franklin Street in Fall and Winter

Aunt Mamie's house was a townhouse on Franklin Street in Clarksville, four stories of red brick and limestone above the street level. You exited your automobile and ascended the steps to the small yard, then ascended a second set of steps to the front door. I turned around to look at the tobacco warehouses across the street and down in the low spot across the street. Clarksville smelled of tobacco curing and stored. There seemed to be tobacco warehouses on every street.

There is an eternal fog on Franklin Street in my memory. I don't know why. Perhaps it is because we always seemed to be visiting my great aunt around Thanksgiving. Perhaps it was the ubiquity of tobacco smoke. Everyone smoked in those days, or seemed to. My grandfather was a tobacco farmer. His neighbors were all tobacco farmers. His father was a tobacco farmer.

But I remember sitting as patiently as a young boy could in the front room with the adults, gazing at the nick nacks and pictures from faraway lands visited by my great aunt. Being offered a cold coke cola at the end of our visit. Thinking about walking down to Goode Wilsons to spend the dollar our grandmother gave us. Comic books and scale plastic models of Frankenstein's Monster and the Wolfman.

Goode Wilson's was later turned into law offices and my last visit was a job interview one December during law school, when visiting my grandmother before Christmas. There wasn't much of the old drug store left in the building other than the exterior. I didn't get the job, but it was pleasant to step out on the slushy sidewalk in my topcoat and hat and brave the winds of December in Northern Tennessee.

I drove down Franklin Street to the center of town and headed back east toward St. Bethlehem and the farm. The skies grew darker and the snow began to fall like a snow globe of an antique country scene in Winter.

Her pedigree

Her great-grandfather, nicknamed "Mouse"
Was a high school quarterback
At a military school in Tennessee
The nickname came from poker nights.

Her grandfather was a decent high school
Fullback until his knees gave out
And the coaches forced him to start
The plays hiking balls between those knees.

Her dad chased quarterbacks to ground
Until a bum knee and lack of eligibility
Wouldn't let him play anymore;
His mother was glad when it was all over
And told him so on the last field of battle.

She learned fight songs and safety blitzes
On green fields cut on Tennessee mountaintops
And between the hedges in Athens
Until she could call plays in her sleep.

She was born for it, bred to a five yard pace,
No cheerleader or majorette here,
But a soul-shaking excitement
When the air turns cool and humidity fades,
The Friday night light poles
Casting a holy halo above her head in the Autumn chill.

An afternoon trip to Williamson

I drove down to Zebulon this morning and the sun was bright and the temperature was reasonable and I walked into the court and sat down with my opponent. Three and a half hours later, we walked out with a victory of sorts and a good feeling of tiredness. I drove back to Griffin and checked my mail and found a check, for a change, and so in one day had two promises of payment and a check, which is about as much as you can expect under the circumstances.

Tonight, Cindy and I met Chip and Robin for supper at a restaurant out in the country, west of Williamson, built into a hangar which houses some antique planes and cars and even an old International Harvester Farmall, which looked about the same vintage as my grandfather's two Farmalls, upon which dad used to ride us up and down the driveway.

The food was good and the atmosphere was nice and the company was cordial. We got to see some old planes take off and land. We got to talk about things and enjoy each other's company. At the end we walked through the small collection of planes and cars. It was fun.

Tonight, we got back home and we watched some television and now it is time for me to let the dog out to do his business. I will leash him and walk out into the dark carport and emerge out into the shadow of the trees above me. I will take a look up through the canopy to see the stars set in the firmament and feel the nightly breeze promissing the chill of Autumn.

It won't be long and we will make that trip up into the mountains to buy apples and caramel sauce and look for interesting pumpkins. Bags of boiled peanuts and cold German beer from some gasthaus in Helen. Walking around as the sun dips below the western mountains of North Georgia. Feeling the coolness. Glad to have a sweater or a jacket in the dying of the day.

We saw a Manx cat tonight. I hadn't seen one for a long time. This one was a pretty tabby, with the big tailless rump. I wanted to go out and pet him but we had other things to do besides petting cats.

It was nice to head out into the night and drive back through the country toward home. Even if Cindy lost her call to her mother because of a lack of signal. That was a small price to pay to be able to drive through the country on a cool early Autumn evening in Central Georgia.

Vent, Vent, Vent

Over and above the temperate temps today, we got to go to supper at church today and it was nice to see a lot of our friends and talk with them again. The spaghetti and sauce was nice and I enjoyed the sweet tea and brownies with ice cream. I had to leave with Cindy early and she got cramps in her feet until I could run her home and hand her a a jar of pickle juice. That finally got her on to her feet so I could run to Ingles and purchase some stuff for her for tomorrow.

Now, a time to vent. I realize that when I graduated from high school that I was not an appropriate candidate, probably, for most Ivy League schools. I didn't apply, even though my friend, Graham, Harvard Class of 79, thought I should apply. Heck, I think he thought that everyone should apply to Harvard.

But I didn't want to go to Harvard. I think most people thought I made an appropriate choice when I went to Washington and Lee. Fine institution, good academic reputation, tied into all that Southern history with George Washigton, Robert E. Lee, etc. Most of my friends and family thought it was the perfect place for me.

There is no perfect place for any student necessarily. And no institution has a fix on truth, even if Harvard has 'veritas' on their crest. That is about as pompous as the "Yay, Sewanee's Right" on the stadium at Sewanee. When I was a child, we had nine white male justices on the Supreme Court. Later, one African-American held a seat on the court. But the men who were there were from California, Virginia, Alabama, Ohio, Washington, etc. Despite the fact that they were all men, they were quite diverse in their upbringing and origins.

But now they all seem to be from the Ivy League and most of them are Catholic or Jewish. In our efforts to be more diverse, we have packed the court with Ivy Leaguers. I know those schools are fine colleges and universities, but they don't hold the only key to truth.

We need a real open market place of ideas to work our way out of this mess. Easy answers and slogans and simplified responses to issues won't make it. It is more complicated and the answers which will probably work will be have to be much more thoughtful and broad in scope and will require more compromise and working together.

Wins and losses, Summer and Fall

It started this morning like Fall had arrived, with a satisfying coolness and a thorough lack of humidity in the air. I was almost deluded enough so that when lunch arrived I scrambled for a cotton sweater which became a reminder that Fall arrives in a few weeks in Georgia, particularly Central Georgia.

Still, I took the dog out this evening and walked him out under the stars roaming across the skies and it was quite cool and delightful. In that kind of environment it is hard to stand there and watch the dog do his business, knowing that you have to get the dog back into his bed in a matter of seconds.

I was looking through dog rescues and showed Cindy several cute little Welsh Terriers and Wire Fox Terriers. She thought they were pretty cute, despite the fact that the information on the dogs usually stated that the dogs weren't good with other dogs. That is a problem with an old Lab-Bassett mix on a styrofoam mattress in the kitchen.

Tex seemed a little concerned about his two favorite humans looking at other dogs. Dogs have a lot of intuition from time to time. Cindy was convinced he come tell we were looking at other dogs. She gives him a bit more credit for cunning and intelligence sometimes, but dogs do seem to know a bit more than we expect from time to time.

The Braves lost tonight and the Phillies won, so there is a two game span between the two teams and the Braves are on the wrong side of the span. Professional baseball is not completely satisfying these days, particular when football is in full swing. Of course, professional football is equally unsatisfying, since the Falcons don't seem to show their talents from week to week and year to year. Oh well.

Relying on sports for a mood elevator is a dangerous thing. It provides a transitory up from time to time, but it is definitely transitory. It just seems to last until the next game and the next loss. There is always another game. That is good and bad. Another opportunity for a win or loss.

God, Science and other things

I am trying very hard to determine how to quantify my value. I am trying to take note of the things I have done which have some value to others. Today, I bought the component parts for a meal for the youth of our church this afternoon. I made a casserole and a salad and bought some ice cream sandwiches and iced tea. The kids didn't much like the casserole. They turned their nose up at the casserole and mostly ate the salad, which was substantially iceberg lettuce and carrots. I looked around and realized the church has reduced some of its membership from before, and it seems as if the ones who have abandoned us are some of my friends. That is sad.

In the face of all this, it is hard to keep your sense of value when everyone seems to be abandoning your place of significance. I have always held to the belief that despite my feelings of doubt, there would ultimately be victory. But when your friends abandon you and your place of significance, it shakes your foundations.

I am not about to change at this point, but it does bring these things into the open and, hopefully, makes you look hard at the underpinnings of your beliefs.

I am not going to Steven Hawking my life and cut everything loose because it is convenient. It is too easy for a smart guy, who built a significant curriculum vitae and clearly showed a substantial self-confidence, but isn't the end result of such self-confidence just the belief that one is perfect the way they are? After all, he is a physicist, educated at one of the highest levels of higher English education, living among the academia. Why would he need anything else?

Oh, that's right. I forgot. That will go unsaid. At any rate, he is not a theologian. He was not educated to determine for the rest of us whether or not there is a God or whether he is responsible for the universe. If it means anything, I don't think I will rely on an English physicist to provide me with theory on God, how he works or his limits.

Assuming a "Big Bang" for the creation of this universe, I don't really think it matters from a scientific standpoint if that the bang was started by God. I read something that said that some scientists were concerned when the Big Bang Theory were concerned that the theory implied a divine causation for the universe. No, it only matters to me, and others like me, who have faith that God created this universe, controls the universe, and will lead us to reconciliation with Him at some future date. That may not mean anything to Mr. Hawking, but that is ok. He doesn't mean that much to me.

Endeavors

We bought an electrical device for Cindy to download books and magazines off the internet to the device. Cindy is excited; however, we have not been successful in readying the device for downloading any books. So at this point, we have a piece of plastic machinery with circuitry within that is sitting on the couch right now, with all the attendant packaging and what-not around it. Of course, we can still buy books the old-fashioned way and filled our little house with books from stem to stern, from crawl-space to attic.

We have another device on the floor beneath the entertainment center which is supposed to provide entertainment, exercise and what not for the whole family. It has not since around January.

I am not a Luddite, I think. But sometimes I wonder if all this electrical wizardry we purchase is worth the money we pay for it. I can still read a book. I have many. I can still play my guitar, without electrical components. I can walk out of this house and walk around the block or drive out in the countryside and gain much more than I would glean from any of the electrical devices we own and store in our house.

I would like to climb a mountain. I would like to catch a fish in a cool stream in North Georgia. I would like to take my guitar out of its case and play some music, if only for myself. I would like to listen to some musicians perform live. I would like to watch a football game in person. These are much more healthy endeavors, I think, than any of the ones I first spoke about in this blog.

Odd closing

I have had several closings cancelled on me in the last couple of days and then I had two closings given to me, including one where the closing actually took place in Alabama so that I was required to be available so I sat at Cissie's house and enjoyed the evening and waited for the notary in Alabama to call me to begin the closing. As it turned out, Cindy and I were in Walmart and the phone rang and I introduced myself and the closing began. As I walked through Walmart I heard the closing occurring in Alabama. I followed Cindy as she shopped and I ended up paying for the stuff and then we headed home. I finally finished at home after driving us home and bringing the stuff inside and walking the dog. Who says I can't multi-task.

Tex and Tom in the Smokies

Today, after church and lunch, I decided to take Tex, the Wonderdog, on a ride up into the Smokey Mountains, so as Cindy and her parents and her sister and niece stayed at home, I packed Tex into the Ford Explorer and headed down the Pellissippi Parkway toward the Miracle Motor Mile and Maryville and the ultimate entrance into the Smokies which goes through the little town of Townsend, Tennessee. After driving down through Maryville and seeing a barbecue place built in the place of a gas station, I took a left down toward Townsend and the "quiet side" of the Smokies. After about an hour of driving we found our way into the entrance of the Smokies and then continued on to the entrance to Cades Cove. I haven't been to Cades Cove for quite a while and going into the Smokies on Labor Day Sunday is taking your life into your hands, but by the time I made it into the traffic jam which is your normal route into Cades Cove, I found myself in a rumba line (or bunny hop, if you prefer), heading into a quite beautiful part of the Smokies which was preserved about fifty years ago and is now one of the most used parts of the National Park system. This was quite evident to Tex and me as we headed down the one way road that goes through Cades Cove. I wasn't ready to stop the car and get off the rumba line to go see one of the surviving buildings on the route, so I continued in the line until I ran out of the desire to follow the line completely around the loop and took a short cut across the valley which is Cades Cove and picked up the loop on the other side of the valley. I did see a jeep parked on the side of the alternative road with Spalding County plates. Id didn't recognize the parties in the car, but I continued on and a nice person in a white pickup truck with an Arkansas Razorback license plate on the front. More later.

Nowhere

August is now going and I am feeling the coming of September and the dying of the year as we head toward the end of this year and the beginning of a new year. I stepped out tonight with Tex to allow him his evening perambulation around the front yard and noticed a new coolness in the breeze. I looked up in the sky and noticed the new stars of Autumn coming across the sky. Soon, Orion, the Hunter will show itself as it moves across the heavens. Orion seems to show himself and rise higher in the sky as it gets closer to my birthday and Christmas. He stays evident in the sky until Spring, when he disappears for the Spring and Summer.

This is another evening where I wish I could go to bed, but spent too much time asleep on the couch earlier. Now, I wish I could go to sleep. The time will come, I know, but it would be nice if it was a little sooner.

This is going nowhere.

Late night or early morning, I don't know

I can't go to sleep. I'm sitting here in front of two glowing rectangles (John Boswell's line, I must attribute). On the Jimmy Fallon show they are showing fake and Lost episodes. I am about on the edge of slumber, but caught up with a number of strings of thought running through my mind. I wish I could get just put it behind me and go to bed. At this point, I shouldn't go back to bed in the bedroom. I probably need to go upstairs to bed so I won't disturb Cindy. I washed the pots from supper. I clipped Tex's nails. I checked the Braves (we won) and the Phillies (they were losing). I am drinking a rather large cup of ice water. That will be a problem later on. I will be waking up in the middle of the night, or at least the later than the middle of the night, or early morning, or pre-day part of the day. I don't know. I am confused and wondering why I couldn't use the darkness of the night to sleep through. Yes, Cindy will tell you that I slept through about two hours of television, while Cindy played card games on the glowing rectangle and watched me sleep through the television. I think that is bad for you. I need to walk at night. Suddenly, when I woke from my pre-sleep nap, I felt a pain in my hip. Great. Parts are going to start falling off soon. I've got gout, but I feel like I have some weird type of leprosy. All these body parts which don't work and could atrophy and just simply fall off. It won't happen. My mind is just rambling.

Prisoner of the media

More of the same. ATT was supposed to come to install the internet on my computer at the office. They were supposed to come about two weeks ago. Instead, they called me on Friday and told me someone would be coming this morning. Well, I had a closing in Warner Robins scheduled at 10:00 and I hadn't been able to speak with the borrower until I was about thirty minutes from Warner Robins. Meanwhile, as I was downloading the loan package at my office, I received a call from the technician from ATT saying he was on his way. He got to my office about the time I needed to leave for my appointment. We spoke briefly and he took some information from me.

An hour later, I was lost in the northern section of Houston County, looking for a house in a subdivision with incomplete information from Mapquest. Meanwhile, the ATT technician called and told me he had a problem with Earthlink, my old provider, who would not allow me to change from them to ATT. So, I had no internet connection at the office.

I had plenty to deal with at the office when I got back to Griffin and I didn't need a computer for that. But, it is disconcerting to find that I am still a prisoner of media. I am so tired of this struggle. I wish there was a good solution.

Football, apples, pumpkins and oysters

It may not be the scientific end of Summer and beginning of Fall, but can there be a more exact determination of the beginning of Autumn? College football begins this Saturday, even some on Thursday. Apples will be everywhere and the pumpkins will be large and orange like Halloween candy and the evenings will get cooler and the mornings will be crisp soon as I take the dog out in the grass. The end of the year is upon us. Just four months with 'r's'. I must look for oysters. I shared a pitcher of bloody mary's with Cindy on Saturday morning and the first sip of my drink brought the salty flavor, augmented with the piquant tabasco sauce. Unfortunately, they don't serve oysters at James Joyce's Irish Pub. I was only five miles away from Six Feet Under but that would have been an odd detour after placing our orders at the pub. So, my thirst for bloody marys (Baynham family drink) and oysters will go unsated until later. I suppose some folks might find it strange to associate oysters with Autumn, but after almost ten years of trips to Apalachicola and the same number of years with three dozen roasted oysters on the night before Thanksgiving, let us say I am programmed. It will happen soon. I promise.

Happy Birthday, darling

My daughter praised her mother for the years
That she had known her and the love
That she had received during that four and twenty years
And it occurred to me that there was no one
In that room who had known her
Longer than me, who can remember
The beginning of this story
When the clock was wound
On the stage at the end of the Dunwoody lunchroom,
Most likely a Monday morning, first period
When a dark eyed fifteen year old girl
Turned and smiled and set the clock,
A smile that I still cherish
As the years continue apace.

The Best

I found this poem in one of my notebooks and couldn't remember if I ever published it and thought I might just place it here:


We love those and they pass from us
We offer up our very hearts but they crumble
Like the dried blooms of a Summer's rose.
We might contemplate some sense of eternity
In the fading of a smile in passing
But we will soon know better, we will feel the end
When our rememberance of the sweetest smile
Is confused forever with its exit,
For life lies in the flicker of a butterfly's wings
And the fleeting grace that we feel as we mount
The stairs at bedtime through the shades and shadows.

A Saturday in town

Cindy decided that since this was her birthday weekend that she wanted to go to James Joyce, an Irish pub in Avondale, for brunch. Afterward, she wanted to go to Paris on Ponce, an antique store on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta. We got moving earlier than most Saturdays and headed over to McDonough, got some gas, then drove up 75 and 675 to 285 and Avondale. When we got to James Joyce, the crowd was small but they had a special deal for two which included a pitcher of bloody marys or a pitcher of mimosas. I convinced Cindy that a pitcher of bloody marys would be best and we waited for our breakfast. Breakfast was served and we sat down to eat and drink our bloody marys and iced tea. It was nice to sit out on the deck in front and eat a nice breakfast before we headed downtown to go antiqing.

The day was sunny and we got a little rain at the end of the day. On the way home, Cindy and I stopped at the Dekalb Farmer's Market. I was able to pick up some Staropramen, a Czech beer which is one of my favorites. We also picked up some Broadbent's bacon and some bakery goods and cheese. The Dekalb Farmer's Market is an amazing phenomena of a place. They have food items from around the world, bake their own bread, make their own sausage and have their own salad bar. Their wine and beer selection is pretty nice as well.

It has been a long time since we went to the Farmer's Market like that. We really didn't get much stuff this time. In the past, we have bought foodstuffs and vegetables and such and we have bought groceries for the entire week or longer. Tonight was just picking up some things we wanted. It was fun, but, man, that place is kept really cold.

Today was Ivor Gurney's birthday. Hooray for poets and musicians for Gloucestershire!

Where I come from

This is a photo of a parish church in a little village in Wales, along the western boundaries of England. Presteigne is a small village and I was reading an article on the internet and discovered that apparently my family originated from this little village, many decades ago. Unfortunately, the other thing this town and the county or shire in which it is located is know for is that it apparently is the poorest county in Britian. There is no industry to speak of and I don't know what they do otherwise, but I suppose there was a reason why my ancient ancestors moved from there to Herefordshire and Gloucestershire. I'm sure they did better along the way, even if my ancestor got kicked out later and sent to Virginia.

Sometimes those bad turns lead to good things. I am sure Presteigne is charming, but I am glad to be an American with Welsh ancestory, rather than the other way around.

The olde days

Tonight was the beginning of high school football. I can see the lights glowing from every little town and village in America. I was thinking about the first Friday when I was an eighth grader at Peachtree High School. I don't remember who I went to the game with that night. I know the stands were full that night. It seemed like the whole school was there. The varsity football team wore red jerseys and white pants with red and blue stripes down the side. The white helmets with the patriots on the side. The band at halftime stretched across the entire field, in five yard increments, from goal line to goal line and from sideline to sideline. They had a big sound.

And the football team won and everyone seemed to be excited when it happened. Ironically, we played Peachtree in our first game when I was a senior at Dunwoody. And we wore the red jerseys, only this time we wore gold pants and red helmets with a gold wildcat on the side. And I remember looking up into the stands and it seemed like the entire football stadium was full of students and parents and brothers and sisters.

We won, 10-0. It was not an easy season, per se. We struggled with some games we shouldn't have, played at a higher level but lost to some good teams, and beat a couple of teams we weren't supposed to. Going into the last game, we were 5-4 and the sportswriter for the Decatur paper said there wasn't a chance we were going to have a winning record in our first season. He predicted we would lose to Chamblee by a sizeable margin.

At the beginning of the game, all the seniors were honorary co-captains. But Jeff Meadows and I were up front, meeting three out of four co-captains for Chamblee who also played with me in Pop Warner football for the Atlanta Colts. We smirked at each other as the official tossed the coin. We would meet again after the game on the sideline. I had just tackled Eddie Jackson in a big water puddle on the sidelines for the last play of the game. All of us were enjoying one more opportunity to be together and relive our past glories. My father was crying in the stands, unseen by me at the time.

At the end of the game, we had upset Chamblee 28-6. My favorite moment? A quarterback sack against Tommy Schreiber for a 32 yard loss. It was 3rd and 42 after that play. I chased him all over the field until he finally fell at my feet. I felt like a big cat on that play.

Later, I found out that my buddy, John Boswell, had been sitting on a sofa in his future wife's house, when the announcer on the television set showed a defensive play for Dunwoody and called my name. It was the beginning of a path of marriage and adult life for John and four more years of football and education for me.

Its funny how our lives tangle, disentangle and join again over the years. Sometimes it is a conscious effort on our parts. Sometimes it is just happenstance.

Closings, supper and the Phillies lose

I had two closings set up today and they were scheduled about an hour apart, but only one loan package came before I had to drive to Jackson for the first closing. That meant that I had a half hour to drive back to Griffin, download the package for the second and drive up to Mcdonough for the second closing. That actually meant that I was about an hour late for the closing.

When I got to the closing, the couple, with child, were quite delightful and very accomodating to my lateness. We sat outside and enjoyed a cool breeze which brought a strong hint of Autumn's coming. It was very nice.

After we ended the closing, I got back in my car and headed back to Griffin. Cindy was with our group at Spicy Thai for supper. Cindy had ordered my meal for me. I got to the restaurant in time to enjoy my meal with the latter part of the meals of the others. I drank a cold Thai beer and enjoyed the presence of the others. It wasn't quite as nice a ambiance as being at the Reahards, but that is a familiar, comfortable place now.

We got home after supper in time to watch Burn Notice and Royal Pains. I have court tomorrow morning and several meetings with clients throughout the day. I hope we can get this weekend so that Cindy has a good birthday weekend. I also want to make sure that I get the three or four matters handled before the end of the month.

The Phillies lost and the Braves don't play until tomorrow. High School football begins tomorrow and the Falcons play sometime this weekend.

I would like to spend some time with Cindy in an environment which is conducive to enjoyment and relaxation. We shall see.....

Looking forward to Fall

I would walk down the street if it wasn't so humid. Give me two weeks and it might be dry enough to walk down to the courthouse to run some errands or go get something to eat at one of the restaurants down town or buy some bottled water to replenish the stash in the mini-frig. Going from month to month has been a pain during the summer mainly because of the problems with the air-conditioning in my office.

I am looking forward to the cooler days when I can wear some flannel and tweeds. Oh, Hell. Today is Wednesday and its over. Tomorrow is Thursday. I like Thursdays. You can feel the end of the week, but it is not so much upon you that you feel like it is fleeting. I never feel like I have enough time. Cindy gave me a list of honey-do's which are quite daunting. I wish I had more time and inclination. This is where I am clearly not my father in law. If I was, the list would be about half way through at this point, with a plan and the materials for the balance.

I'd like to fish a bit. I'd like to go up with Bill to the property on the Chestatee and enjoy an afternoon under the shade of the trees along the river. I can't believe that there was so much time between the last time I had been on the property and the day we drove up to scatter Dad's ashes. And now there is another year gone and I really need to look over it and enjoy the view up and down the river.

It is getting to the point where the water will be cool enough for the fish to start biting. There is a lot of fun to do in the Fall. Football. Baseball playoffs. Raking leaves. Cool mornings. Cooler evenings, when the sun goes down early.

I remember one time when I took someone up to Helen in late October. We went to a restaurant and tried to get a table. We had to wait about an hour before our table was ready. While we waited, we sat on an outdoor nook and drank good German beer and watched the sun go down. It was getting cool by the time they seated us and it was chilly when I walked up to the top of a hill in town and climbed into a basket under a hot air balloon to be transported up into the air (on a tether) to watch the people down below and enjoy the sensation of weightlessness only a hot air balloon can provide. It was a fun afternoon and early evening.

I'd like to try that again. Late October. Pumpkins. Colorful leaves. Good cold beer. Ripe apples. Football on the television and radio. I love Fall.

What is football for?

In a moment of repose,this morning, between taking phone calls and writing letters to various potentates, justices and other legal scalawags, I took the opportunity to look up the 2010 football schedule for Presbyterian College, that little institution of higher education on the piedmont hills of western South Carolina. My intent was to look for a game for which I might take my daughter Kate to see her alma mater perform their talents at the football field at New Bailey. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the first three schools lined up to play the Blue Hose in 2010were, in order: Wake Forest, Clemson and the Citadel. I was a little shocked. Just a few years ago, Presbyterian was pleased to exist in a league of small parochial schools situated in the Carolinas, Georgia and Tennessee. This seemed such a perfect collection of little schools, all founded by faithful groups of Christians who chose to start a college for the preservation of their particular theology.

But apparently there were a large number of trustees and alumni of this small Presbyterian school who desired to see their little school playing among the larger universities who weekly raise large masses of money in order to show off their school colors and ultimately send their "students" to go play games and earn large amounts of cash in the NFL. This is considered such an accomplishment in this country that most organizations of higher education turn their backs on the usual goals of their institutions, so that these alumni and trustees can stay at home on a Saturday afternoon, safe and airconditioned, with a cooler of beer and a tray of cocktails by their easy chair, and watch their alma mater hawk beer and insurance and potato chips to the masses. This, indeed,seems to be the highest calling of our modern institutions of higher educations.

What they don't see are the years of struggle, evolution and "growing pains" when the caliber of athlete doesn't quite match up with the requirements of the competition. I have some experience in this regard. I remember trying to be competitive with teams like Bucknell, Davidson and others. There were many times when my courage was failing and I managed a sheepish stab at trying to stop some behemoth who was protected and guarded by other like behemoths, all of which were quite speedier than myself. I had never suffered such losses in my earlier days.

I understand. I am behind the times, or lost in some other philosophy, far off the beaten path of the common sense of the masses. And I admit it. I too appreciate the efforts of my darling bulldogs, dressed in their red and black uniforms every Saturday afternoon, fighting for me and the rest of us proud alumni, and for whatever pile of money and sponsors they might glean for the betterment of the administration. Even today, I have a catalog on my coffee table, dedicated to the proposition that one cannot have enough items of clothing in red, black and white, any combination thereof, stripes, patterns, and style, all with the obligatory "G" located somewhere on each item.

I wonder what the original trustees of the colony of Georgia would have thought if they could have looked forward into the future of their tiny little colony back in the 17th century. That little colony created as a buttress between the Carolinas and Spanish Florida, to provide a place of shelter and industry for the denizens of the poorhouses and workhouses of England? I guess I am too cynical in my thoughts because I assume that they would probably be proud of the acccomplishments of the great-great-great-great grandsons and granddaughters of their wards.

The more things change, I'm afraid, the more they remain the same.

Amber photographs of Autumn

Much as I can sometimes feel the warmth of Spring on certain days in January, when the sun shines brightly upon the tan Winter grass through the naked tree branches, so I can now feel the coming Fall, which I realize will not be coming for another month and a half at this latitude. It doesn't help that I received the most recent issue of GQ, which is the Fall clothing issue. I also just happened to pick up a package of Irish Breakfast tea bags from a company in Northern Ireland when I was at the store. The British Isles sell the best teas in my opinion and teas also bring me back to Autumn.

I can't help it. I am remembering Falls in the late 70's spent on football fields in the mountains of Tennessee, the Bluegrass of Kentucky and the Shenandoah River Valley/ I was walking up trails from my apartment along Woods Creek to the Collonade, kicking orange and crimson leaves across the brick walkway. Listening to lectures on British literature as I stared out the second floor window at the world of Lexington, Virginia drifting slowly by. Caught up in a late Victorian dream captured like a wasp in amber.

Defenestration as family profession

The good citizens of Praha,
Living separately from the power
Of the Viennese throne
And its papal messengers,
Thought it right to wrest
Conscience from the hands
Of those priests and friars
Under which they had struggled
For, lo, so many years
And take a more direct path
To God, through his word and Holy Spirit;

And so, with conscience as their guides,
These laymen took matters and priests
Into their trembling hands
And cursed the messengers
By heave-ho out the window
To the "holy" dung hill below
And, thus, liberated their souls
For a brief time, until the Austrian Emperor
Sent cardinals and envoys and soldiers of fortune
To do the work that God would not.

And now, six hundred years later
Poor Pluto is divested of its status
By a new generation of Czech citizens
Who would take their solar system
Into their own hands
And remove little Pluto
From its place in this part of the universe,
Diminishing its place as planet
To dwarf, a designation less meaningful,
An astronomical defenestration.

Advent

Again the alarm failed to go off and we slept until the sun was beating on the tops of our heads from the window behind our bed. We are on an altered schedule at this point. I smell some danger from the possibility of sleeping too late and finding myself explaining myself to some judge somewhere who probably would have little sympathy for my new sleep schedule.

I heard somewhere that it takes thirty days to create or break a habit. If that is true then we have a lot of work to do within the next month. I also need to work on that alarm clock. Night before last it was simply a product of the clock losing power and shutting off the alarm mechanism. I thought we had that figured out but obviously this morning's alarm failure showed that we either didn't set the alarm last night or there is something wrong with the clock itself. I'll have to take a look at that this afternoon.

The humidity has been leached from the weather this week and we are supposed to have some days where it is hot, but dry leading into this weekend when it will get cooler. It seems that Fall is on its way. Hurrah!

Remainder

Long past
Worn jeans
Her drawer

Beauty at the coming of night

When I first noticed the moon this evening, it was twilight and the purple darkness of evening had not quite covered the eastern sky, but behind the pine trees was an azure color which bought a bit of the close of day and the beginning of night and mixed both together. Later, when I saw the moon again after the dying of the day's sun, I noticed that the sky was now deep blue and lightened by the now silver moon. It was a full moon, I think. Its creamy color was now the silver of a bright, new silver coin. There seemed to be little humidity in the air, and it intensified the colors. The moon sitting there in the eastern sky looked like a piece of silver jewelry on a skien of velvet. There was a part of me that wanted to stand there and watch as the moon slowly passed across the sky. Tomorrow is another work day. The beauty of the evening is lost as we take our nightly rest.

Twilight moon

Twilight:
An azure sky
A dollop of thick cream:
The moon.

Looking for proof of Autumn

I woke up about my usual time today, around 5:30. After clearing the decks, I headed upstairs and ended up sleeping until around 8:15. As it turned out, the electric clocks, with the alarms we depend on so much, had gone off at sometime in the middle of the night and so we were without the electronic aid we need to badly most of the time. I personally was coming off the hot part of yesterday afternoon when I was trudging around a field in Meriwether County, picking figs for Cindy.

After I took my shower and shaved, it became apparent to me that Cindy was not going to be ready any time soon, so I left for the office, arriving about an hour later than normal. I have been attempting to catch up ever since.

The heat has returned this afternoon and my air conditioning system has ben struggling to break the strain the sun has placed upon it. I guess it was the water vapor in the upper atmosphere, but the clouds that have crossed the skies these days have been magnificent lately. Yesterday afternoon, Cindy and I were noticing the clouds as we drove back from Hudson's Farms to home. A lot of the clouds seemed to have a pink cast to them and one formation looked like a calvary charge of clouds across the sky.

When I was little, I remember seeing cloud formations and imagining skyscrapers and apartment buildings of cotton, like the Navajo villages built into the buttes of New Mexico. This past week, my memories of those childish imaginings were brought to memory as I looked at the elaborate formations in the blue, blue skies.

The rain that came to us during the end of last week greened up the vegetation around us. The trees and bushes looked so alive compared to the way they were growing during the mini-drought we were having in July and early August. If we can keep this occasional rain pattern, perhaps we can have a colorful Fall when late September and October roll around.