A Lovely Summer Evening

Since I got swamped with a lot of work and did not have time to put together my usual Friday offering, I thought I would let Slim Randles come over to entertain you. This is a particularly nice piece that warrants a slow, easy read. Let the mood wash over you like a warm summer breeze. Since most folks take a cool glass of something out to the porch of a summer's evening, I thought we could share some good ol' Texas sweet tea.

The evening was one of those that come back to you time after time, year after long year. It comes back and whispers of how good life can be when you’re well fed, enjoying life, and a good friend shares the front porch with you on a summer’s evening.

It was that way with Doc and Steve the other night. Doc thought he might have to do a scientific paper on the soporific effects of ice tea, fried chicken, and corn on the cob. As long as it didn’t take any effort.

So when this huge meal had been bull-snaked down, the two grinning friends came out to the porch to watch the sun go down behind the trees along Lewis Creek. The air had that orange and russet glow, and the breeze, that little one that caresses the neck, came slowly down from the hills and made their shirt collars wiggle ever so slightly.

It was like taking a dry bath in paradise.

Doc sidled up to one of the porch posts and gently tested it to see if it could hold the extra weight he was carrying with that meal. It stood fine, so he leaned against it seriously and looked out on the evening’s warmth.

Steve, who was enjoying having a fine meal that someone else cooked for a change, leaned against the post on the other side of the steps.

And then they just stood quietly, watching the day make beautiful skies as it ended.

The shadow on the ground foretold the presence of the circling bird. Doc and Steve paid no attention at first. Then a few minutes later, it was joined by two more circling birds over Doc’s house.

“Buzzards,” Steve mumbled.

“Yep,” said Doc.

They circled some more.

“I think one of us should move a little …” said Doc.

“Move?”

“Well … to let them know … you know.”

Steve sighed, then glanced over at Doc. “Flip you for it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slim Randles writes a nationally syndicated column, Home Country, and is the author of a number of books including  Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. That title, and others, are published by  LPD Press.

Summertime Blues

 It's been a while since I posted an excerpt from my humorous memoir, A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck, so here is another offering from the chapter Summertime Blues. Yes, Swimming Does Count as Bathing.  Enjoy....

When I was writing my weekly humor column for a suburban newspaper, it was always a challenge each year to come up with something to write about the summer break from school that wasn’t just a rehash of past columns. I thought maybe people were getting tired of my “I hate Summer” columns, but a friend assured me otherwise.

“No, Maryann,” she said. “You’ve got to keep writing this. If you suddenly started loving the summer break, that would leave the rest of us looking like the worst mothers on earth. So accept the gauntlet, carry the flag, give us a game plan.”

How could I refuse?

I worked for two weeks on a plan I thought was perhaps the best summer vacation survival guide ever, but it only took two days for my kids to destroy it.


The shining glory of said game plan, which I considered definitive, succinct, and perhaps worthy of someday being etched in stone, were my edicts:

Thou shalt not wake up the household before eight o'clock in the morning.

“But you didn't say I couldn't sing."

 Thou shalt not fight.

"This isn't a fight. It's a police action."

I guess I should have covered more bases. I amended that edict to read:  Thou shalt not fight or engage in any sort of skirmish, duel, war or uprising. That should be clear enough for them.

Thou shalt not bother me with trivial details when I'm working.

"Grandma just called from Detroit. But I told her you were too busy to talk."

Thou shalt complete all chores before noon.

"Mom, your bed's not made and its twelve-o-one."

Thou shalt co-operate.

"We are co-operating. David's helping me get this Twinkie away from Michael."

Once the fun of breaking edicts was over, there was nothing left but this deep pit of boredom. We dipped so low, we were reduced to inane activities such as conducting a contest to see who had the most mosquito bites in unusual places.  (You do not want to know the details of who won.)

Then we endured 14 hours of Love Boat reruns with a test afterward to see who could remember the most lines of dialogue.

And this was the shining example my friend thought I could be?

Enjoying the Day

It is a beautiful summer day, and this morning was very cool for Texas in August. I spent the morning outside cleaning the pasture, trimming tall grass along the fence line, and clearing the tall growth around our mailbox. I'm sure our mail carrier will appreciate that the next time she comes by and can actually SEE the mailbox.

At one point, I stopped, well actually I stopped often as my poor old back was yelping, but this one time I stopped and looked across the road at the hay meadow. There were no egrets today, but the view was still stunning, and for the millionth time I thanked God, or Mother Earth, or whatever higher power is responsible for the gift of such beauty.