A favorite summer scene

This is one of my favorite scenes of summer -- when a neighbor cuts his field and bales hay. It reminds me of growing up on a farm. Our bales were not nearly as big as these. Ours were smaller and rectangular and tied with rope. I remember my brothers working hard in sweltering heat to load each bale by hand onto a trailer. 

On the day I took this picture, I watched (in sweltering heat) as these huge bales were swiftly loaded by two guys. One drove a truck with a flatbed trailer and the other drove a piece of fancy equipment that fork-lifted the bales. Both workers were in air-conditioned comfort behind roll-ed up windows. This is known as progress; innovation; but those guys didn’t even come close to getting the physical workout my brothers did. And they weren't bantering back and forth either.

My brothers might not have enjoyed it then, but I imagine they are grateful now for slinging bales of hay way back when.

Bigger and better comes with a price

    I read the announcement in the newspaper and took particular interest in the location -- the fire station close to my house. Perfect. Motivated partly by proximity, I decided to go. When Saturday morning came, I headed to the station about 15 minutes from my house. 

    I drove down country roads through lovely scenery, sharing the road with only a few other cars, if any. I pulled into the gravel driveway and went in to find a small group of friendly writers at a table. I sat down; we introduced ourselves; they seemed to know each other; they welcomed me. We talked about our writing passions, shared writing experiences and our expectations of the club. This is heaven, I thought. I left inspired and grateful. 

It's tough saying goodbye to a best friend

I couldn't write about her when she left us in July, but the passing of a few months has taken away some of the bite. Little dogs are precious and mine certainly fit that description for almost seventeen years, so it would be an injustice not to at least say a few words, even at the risk of causing some tears to fall.

She is buried in a rock garden down by the creek.  A few summer roses linger nearby, along with some pansies I planted last weekend.  

        And that's all I can say about that.

Josie 

September 2000 - July 2017