Don’t expect to see the #1 son and the husband. They hid in the shadows drinking Dos Equis because they are the most interesting men in the world. No really! I had a few of those lovely green bottles and I must admit it was pretty exciting. 
We went fishing Saturday and my oh my how the time flew by.
Okay the truth is the guys fished while we (my granddaughter and moi) took pictures. We of course caught a lot more of what we were after. As a matter of fact the two of us snagged nearly two hundred shots yet three men with six tackle boxes and four rods couldn’t catch a single fish! Not even a catfish! In a lake as large as Tawakoni that takes some real lack of skill.
My husband says I shouldn’t poke fun being as I have a serious case of lack-a-jerk. True, the fish are usually too fast for me but a desperate fisherman resorting to the ritual of the frog dive, that I can catch.
The dive left the fish laughing so hard they couldn’t bite. Have you ever tried to laugh and eat at the same time? It is hard to do. It is hard being a fish, I understand these things. It’s also illegal to be on the water at night without the proper lights (which we had left in the truck) so we turned starboard heading to shore and watched the sun set on another beautiful day… another fleeting moment in time.
See how time flies…
How time flies
I have no photo of my head in the sand, which would be appropriate while admitting I do not want to deal with my current reality. My mother is ill… critically ill and I am a “mama’s girl” which I admit without shame.
She is/has always been my touchstone, my constant reminder to move forward despite obstacles, my assurance that ‘this too shall pass’… Tonight she lays in an Intensive care unit fighting for her life and I long for a quiet place in a green meadow beneath a sunrise to remind me how marvelous nature is even as life takes its course . Pleading to the heavens not now… not now. Let me sit on the green meadow and meditate on the rising sun of hope. Let me find the courage to endure whatever the future holds. I can hear her gentle whisper,”Keep your obligations. Move on and do not look back except for a glimpse and a smile.”
Longing for serenity
I am trying mother. And here is my submission for this weeks photo challenge : Escape.
Dabble: to fiddle, putter, experiment
Did you know that a significant number of the population does not consider writing a real job? You did? You knew that already? Well color me shocked and bubble busted when a sweet little old lady accused me of dabbling. Writing is real work by golly. True I have never broken a sweat over a keyboard but dabbling?
Admittedly it is easier than sorting sheets for a laundry company that services nursing homes. Yeah I did that for three whole days. That was a long time ago (a really, really long time ago) when the unemployment office would actually put you to work. I suppose in comparison it does look like I am dabbling.
Thinking back on those three days of sorting fecal stained linens I’ll take being called a dabbler. Heck. I will embrace it and laugh at it like a real country boy laughs at Earl Dibbles Jr.
Sara Rosso posted a beautiful example for this weeks photo challenge.
This weeks theme is Pattern. I have been doing a little sewing (a little is all I know how to do) but that is not the pattern Sara had in mind. Shucks! I had just relearned how to load the bobbin.
Oh well, look at this cool Polyphemus I found last week.
And this is what he/she looked like in November. Not the same pattern but lovely still. 
Alas I ate a portion so you could see the pattern here. Yum Hmm, the sacrifices I make. 
We went for the annual camp-out this past weekend. I expected a small crowd and a somber mood considering it was our first gathering on the lake since my dear aunt left this world last June and this was her thing, she loved it.
Only thirty five or forty of us were in attendance so the crowd was small but the mood was far from somber. I should have known better than to think that.
We do not dwell on sorrow. No, we mustn’t… we cannot. And we did not. Instead we laughed and reminisced about our rambunctious youth spent on the shores of Navarro Mills. A time when our numbers were more, a time when strength and stamina ran hard through our veins, a time when we were too confident to recognize the gift.
Remembering makes us aware of our weakness but we remember anyway because it also brings us comfort. These are my memories:
I remember tents dotting the landscape, fried eggs on an open campfire, horse shoes clanking, blankets of bluebonnets, chasing birds along the banks and walking for miles in the sweltering heat. Swimming in the murky water, boat rides, the smell of roasted marshmallows and fishing along the shoreline. I remember crystal clear nights and counting stars until we fell asleep, long walks to the toilet, frigid dawns stealing slumber, and anxiously awaiting the next sunrise so we could do it all again.
With nostalgia I watch our children and grandchildren between sneaking stares at the last man standing (my father’s baby brother) and hope they understand what this gathering silently implies, these things you must remember.
I know I’m running the weekly photo challenges back to back. A little something in between would probably make for a better reading experience but I am in a hurry. Preparing for a weekend camping trip should not be this complicated and finding a sitter for a smart alack, socially inept chihuahua should not be so difficult.
We have become entirely too indulgent. I suggested to the mister we travel with nothing, relying on our natural abilities and make that damn chihuahua catch us a squirrel or something. Yeah, he’s still laughing.
So here are my recent shots for the Weekly Photo Challenge: From Above.
The word culture can conjure so many images it boggles the mind. Defining it as beliefs, principles, arts, ethnicity and (may I add) bacteria that reside in yogurt and petri dishes. That doesn’t make choosing a photograph any easier for me. I can’t zoom in close enough on the yogurt to get a shot of live cultures and petri dishes… well they are just plain nasty.
This week’s challenge is hosted by Aaron Joel Santos.
