tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195172512024-03-13T04:00:22.611-05:00Life 101 Life 101 ~ From the Heart of Alabama
By Rick WatsonRick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.comBlogger5382125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-51428007073240700932020-07-15T17:37:00.001-05:002020-07-15T17:37:25.021-05:00Too hor for Ol' Hook<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been hellaciously hot. I only when outside to walk them early this morning, and by the end of the journey, they were weary,<br />
<br />I'm going to go to my primary care office tomorrow to have tests run, I will be happy to rule the bad stuff out.<br />
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Old Hook is and Kodak will have decided to stay inside.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-56561107863379010532020-07-14T20:06:00.000-05:002020-07-14T20:06:02.774-05:00Field of mushrooms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The temps were brutal today. I'm sure our friend Bob Miller who lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, would chuckle reading this because it was 113 degrees.<br />
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The rain this that moved through at the end of last week, turned the farm into a field of mushrooms. Most of them only last a matter of hours.<br />
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I'm glad I caught this one.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-46262544236168683612020-07-13T19:48:00.001-05:002020-07-13T19:48:28.968-05:00Warning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I went to the doc today. It seems I have an infection. The bloodwork doesn't appear to be a virus. He gave me a shot with a needle as big as a kindergarten pencil. I enjoy those so much. He also called me in a script.<br />
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Dropping off the script at the pharmacy, I didn't wait at the drive-through. I told them I'd come back this evening to pick on the antibiotics.<br />
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On the way back down, this evening, I slowly rolled through a three-way stop sign. The last moving violation I got was over 25 years ago.<br />
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The trooper was a nice guy. He went to his car as he wrote the ticket. Apparently, he found it a little humorous that my last violation was rolling through this very stop sign back when Bill Clinton was in the White House. He let me off with a warning. I could have hugged his neck.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-30779469525747181162020-07-12T18:17:00.003-05:002020-07-12T18:17:41.323-05:00Under the weather<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In year's past, summer was my favorite month. I worked and played hard. In the last several years, that philosophy caught up with me.<div>
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Yesterday, I did several projects. I thought I'd spread them out and cooled off enough before doing the next project. I was wrong.</div>
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Today, I feel as though I've gone through a wringer washing machine. I've hydrated all day, but I still don't feel like running a race.</div>
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Below was the start of one of my projects. I scraped off flaking paint. I think it was replacing the mailbox post yesterday evening when the temps were in the mid-90s with high humidity.</div>
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Today, I've laid low. Jilda has given me a hard time today and rightfully so.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-16328906135794756842020-07-11T19:09:00.002-05:002020-07-11T19:09:30.902-05:00More butterfly action<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know I've posted a lot of butterfly pictures lately, but I can't help myself. This Eastern Tiger Swallowtail looks like the one that Ol' Hook almost ate a few weeks ago.<br />
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Our niece Samantha comes over each evening and brings Todd (the pup I rescued a few months ago) to let him play with Kodak. They run until they drop from exhaustion in the back yard.<br />
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This evening while we were there, this butterfly flitted by and almost landed on the bill of my cap. When the dogs came closer, it flew over to sip nectar from the purple butterfly by the steps. Seeing this baby was a gift.<br />
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Tomorrow, my nephew Haven is coming up to install a pump in the well at the barn. I've been meaning to put a well in that pump for 20 years. A few months ago, I bought a pump and a tank.<br />
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Hopefully, I'll have water in the honey house tomorrow afternoon.<br />
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I hope your weekend has been grand.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-26149294613860351042020-07-10T18:29:00.002-05:002020-07-10T18:29:49.378-05:00Sunflower honeybee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jilda pointed out in her blog last night that the limoncello sunflowers had bloomed. We have sunflowers that are ten feet tall with blossoms as big as volleyballs, but they are slow to bloom.<br />
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This year we got limoncello sunflower seeds from our commercial vendor, and they were the first to bloom. These little scutters are only about 18 inches tall.<br />
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When I stepped over to check on the watermelons this afternoon, I saw one of our honeybees wallowing in the limoncello pollen. We planted the smaller sunflowers as borders around our garden areas.<br />
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The sun was hot, but I stood for a long while watching this girl work. By the time she lifted off the bloom, she both pollen baskets on her hind legs were packed.<br />
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As I turned to walk toward the welcoming shade of the backyard, I had to smile. The sunflowers should bloom until the first frost. To be a viable source of food, I would need acres of sunflowers. We're not there yet, but we planted more flowers than we did last year.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-47421412097731746202020-07-09T20:49:00.002-05:002020-07-09T20:49:29.707-05:00Green thumb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jilda and I walked over to our niece Samantha's house yesterday evening as the sun was setting. She'd never grown a garden in her life until this year. The virus put her out of work, so rather than sitting around brooding, she planted a garden.<br />
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I think she was as surprised as we were that she has a green thumb. Her garden is amazing.<br />
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We stood and talked for a while as we swatted at gnats and mosquitos, but before we left to walk back home, I snapped a picture of her patch of flowers. It looks like a painting at the end of her garden.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-876050264234423412020-07-08T19:35:00.003-05:002020-07-08T19:35:46.953-05:00Reschedule<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The gentleman that was to administer my test today has had cancer. He had a radiation treatment yesterday. He asked me to call this morning before I drove the two hours to his apiary.<br />
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When I called just after 8 a.m., his voice sounded weak and weary. He asked if we could reschedule. I said, of course.<br />
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He sent me a text this evening, so we're set for Friday afternoon.<br />
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I'm torn because I feel as though I'm adding to his load at a time in his life where his load is heavy enough.<br />
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I've talked to him several times the past few weeks. He is an avid beekeeper. I think he wants to help as many people on their journey to becoming a responsible steward of honeybees.<br />
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I'm signing off now because I need to go study.<br />
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The sun came out this even, and this tiger swallowtail boy came to sip on the butterfly bush. Go figure.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-55491373208312029702020-07-07T20:36:00.002-05:002020-07-07T20:36:31.112-05:00Testing, testing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tomorrow I have to drive to north Alabama to take a test that's part of my journey to becoming a beekeeper. In the last few days, I've read a new book, and reread another on the finer points of the craft.<div>
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I'm as ready as I'm ever going to bee so to speak.</div>
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Today was a workday, so I didn't get a chance to take a picture, so I found one I took a few years ago on the Fourth of July.</div>
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Happy humpday tomorrow.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-66810348873124759112020-07-06T19:25:00.002-05:002020-07-06T19:25:56.905-05:00Sunflowers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today I had calls to make and stories to write, but Jilda and I decided to do first things first. We shoe'd up and headed out for a walk after coffee.<br />
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One of the first things we noticed was that a few of the sunflowers bloomed out overnight. It was overcast so I couldn't frame it against the sky. Plus, this one is at the edge of the watermelon patch and I didn't want to risk stepping on a vine and damaging one of the melons that are almost ripe.<br />
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It's been an interesting spring here.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-42791895334667895352020-07-05T19:10:00.000-05:002020-07-05T19:10:00.563-05:00Tiger lily<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The tiger lily nestles close to the southeast eve of the house. I thought it got sun only in the afternoon, but I noticed this morning that a shaft of sunlight fell on the lily and not much else around it.<br />
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The blossom faces downward as if it's embarrassed by its beauty. I had to tinker with the exposure on my camera to keep the stark light from overpowering the color.<br />
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It was a beautiful thing to behold for a few moments. When the position of the sun changed a few degrees, the lily went back into shadow.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-2842345822496848152020-07-04T18:58:00.003-05:002020-07-04T18:58:43.661-05:00Can't wait <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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While the coffee dripped in the carafe this morning I stepped down to the garden to check on things.</div>
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Everything is showing out, except for the sunflowers. The picture below, I took a few years ago on the 4th of July but so far, this year's crop has not bloomed yet. Jilda says have patience. I shall try, but I love sunflowers and so do the bees.</div>
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I hope you all have had a great day.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-54939907711438469292020-07-03T20:16:00.001-05:002020-07-03T20:16:33.550-05:00Slow down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When our elderly neighbor across the road began having health issues a few years ago, I started keeping a closer check on him. His only daughter was an attorney and lived out west. When I would see a change in him, I would send her a text or give her a call. It was the neighborly thing to do. She was grateful.<br />
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When he died, I helped place his dog in a forever home, and kept an eye on his place until she could figure out a path forward. His grass grew as fast as mine, so each time I mowed the lawn, I'd cut his. That way, the place didn't look abandoned. Looking abandoned in rural areas is an open invitation for ne'er do wells.<br />
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The last time she came home, she gave me some of the things that her dad loved. There were some tools, a few books, and the swing that sat in front of his house.<br />
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After hauling the swing home, I placed it on the edge of the yard in the shade of a sweet gum tree.<br />
Jilda and I soon learned that the sound of a squeaking chain is intoxicating on warm summer evenings.<br />
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Since the coronavirus hit, we've spent more time at home and we've paid more attention to our place. One evening while swinging, Jilda said, I think this swing would be better if it was sitting over there. She pointed to the opposite edge of the yard.<br />
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I never question her taste in the positioning of yard-thangs, so we stood and wagged it squeaking to the new location. A moment later, when we sat down, I knew she was right because it was positioned to watch the setting sun.<br />
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A few days later, the Mandevilla we'd bought was on one end of the swing with its tentacles winding up the swing poles. One the other side was a raised bed of cucumbers.<br />
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Since then, the plants seem to be in a race to see which one can form a canopy over our heads.<br />
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In the future, when looking back at the year 2020, there will be plenty of ways to curse it, but there will be other things that would not have happened had we not slowed down.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-7776914260318605332020-07-02T20:33:00.000-05:002020-07-02T20:33:04.271-05:00All in a day's work<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I spent most of the day writing stories for the paper. After coffee and a short walk, I was on the screen porch under a whispering ceiling fan tapping keys. After several hours, I was brain-fried.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK21mhME2mQp7EOndPTRAWLYecfe207-h9QoZIjlAtrreUZUVCfChLYcMmgvydH8assjIXzTaLUnb8EeCXwUeiF4qZUxu_gKjtvOQWgDJpWNjQq09RnB4IOU2SLW6pkJX3qBTiMQ/s1600/OldPlow.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK21mhME2mQp7EOndPTRAWLYecfe207-h9QoZIjlAtrreUZUVCfChLYcMmgvydH8assjIXzTaLUnb8EeCXwUeiF4qZUxu_gKjtvOQWgDJpWNjQq09RnB4IOU2SLW6pkJX3qBTiMQ/s200/OldPlow.jpg" width="200" /></a>After lunch, I headed down to the honey house and put new wooden handles on our cultivator. Jilda's dad gave us this tool over 40 years ago.<br />
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This spring, when I pulled it out to lay off some rows for the sunflowers in our garden, one of the handles broke. OH NO! I thought to myself that there is no way I could find replacement handles for a tool that most people consider obsolete.<br />
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When I went inside to break the news to Jilda, she said, "No worries, Lehman's has those."<br />
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I thought she was kidding, but she whipped out her phone, went to the Lehman's website and searched for cultivator handles and there they were.<br />
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A few days later, UPS brought the new handles and left them on the screen porch. When I got home and saw the box from Lehman's, it made me smile.<br />
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I got the handles replaced, but it was too hot outside to give it a test drive. I'll do that tomorrow.<br />
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My next project is to get the cement mold out and pour some new Peace stepping stones. I think I could use some more peace these days.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-61392513522899445602020-07-01T20:10:00.000-05:002020-07-01T20:10:36.531-05:00Hot bees<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We woke up this morning to the falling rain. After starting the coffee, I stepped over to the garden door and looked across the garden toward the barn. A light mist hovered just above the grass, making the field look ghostly.<br />
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Wednesday is the day I write my weekly column for the paper, so I took the laptop out onto the screen porch to work.<br />
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After finishing the first draft, I had several (no contact) errands to run, so I put on my hat and hustled to the truck.<br />
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Jilda had lunch ready when I returned. After that, we treated ourselves to a nap. Life always seems better after a nap.<br />
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Sure enough, when we woke up, the clouds had moved off to the south. It didn't take long for the atmosphere to get steamy.<br />
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I walked down to the bee yard to check on the girls. One of the hives had a beard of bees hanging off the front. The hive was a swarm that I'd captured, so it started out with fewer bees than the other hives, so I narrowed the entrance gap. This makes it easier for worker bees to defend the colony against robbing from yellow jackets, wasps, and honeybees from competing hives.<br />
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I thought the hive was vented from the bottom, but when I checked, it was one of the older hives I bought in the beginning. With rising temps, no screened bottom board, and a reduced entrance, I knew immediately that the bees in the colony weren't getting enough air.<br />
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I put on my bee suit and returned to the hive and removed the entrance reducer. You could the pitch of their humming changed.<br />
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Later, when I walked back, there weren't as many bees hanging out front.<br />
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Walking back through the garden, Jilda was picking squash for supper. She called to me to say the girls had finally found the Old Maid flowers in our garden. I snapped a picture for you to see.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-7828708459124073712020-06-30T19:44:00.001-05:002020-06-30T19:44:50.697-05:00A special gift from Ol' Hook ~ my column from the weekend paper<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Through the years, Jilda and I have had our share of pets. We’ve had cats, chickens, tropical fish, and dozens of dogs. One thing we’ve learned is that they sometimes bring you unusual “gifts.”<br />
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Not long after we married, we lived in a trailer in a mobile home park where the Sumiton Elementary School now sits. We didn’t have an air conditioner, so during the summer, the windows were always open.<br />
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The screens were old, and the one in the window over the kitchen sink was barely hanging onto the frame.<br />
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One afternoon Jilda was standing at the sink washing dishes. Alleycat (the cat’s name) jumped from the ground outside and onto the edge of the sink through the window. The cat had done this trick in the past, but this time she had a small copperhead snake dangling from her mouth. Jilda’s scream made the hair on my arm stand on end.<br />
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I rushed into the kitchen, whacked the snake with a broom handle before balancing it on the broom, and taking it outside.<br />
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Not long after that, our German Shepard, Duke, brought us a baby rabbit. The dog had gently captured the tiny critter from a neighbor’s rabbit pen. Other than being slimed with Duke slobber, it was unharmed.<br />
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I took it home, apologized to the neighbor, and kept Duke on a short leash after that.<br />
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Through the years, there were other “gifts,” but this week, Ol’ Hook took the prize.<br />
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Our niece Samantha and her son Jordan were visiting from next door. We were all sitting on the back deck, enjoying the afternoon sun.<br />
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An Eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly fluttered up and landed on the butterfly bush in the flower bed. It was yellow and black with an intricate design on its wings. The critter was almost as big as my cupped hands. Jilda stepped down to get a better look. Pulling the phone from her pocket, the butterfly seemed to be posing.<br />
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After Jilda stepped back onto the deck, Ol’ Hook spotted the dreaded butterfly. I’ve mentioned before that Hook is a deaf pit bull with a mouth big enough to swallow a Ford Focus. He launched off the deck, and before any of us could stop him, the butterfly disappeared. Chomp, chomp, chomp.<br />
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All four of us watched the event unfold and did a chorus of “Oh, no!”<br />
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Hook came up onto the back deck and looked at us all as if to say, “Threat averted.”<br />
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If the story had ended there, it would have been a sad one, but it didn’t. After a moment, Hook began coughing and then opened his mouth like he had something hung in his throat.<br />
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Just then, the butterfly flew out of his mouth and up into a nearby tree. It sat there for a few moments before heading down to feed on the zinnias in the garden.<br />
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We’ve told several people this story, and they all looked as us like we were pulling their leg. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have been skeptical, too.<br />
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The gift here was a story that will be told for years to come. I only wish I’d had the foresight to capture the event on video.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-10007970595996505882020-06-29T20:04:00.002-05:002020-06-29T20:04:43.078-05:00Watermelon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been years since we planted watermelons. Early in the spring, we met one of our friends to give her some eggs, she reciprocated with four heirloom watermelon plants.<br />
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That afternoon, I took the tiller and broke up land that we've never used as a garden before. The main factor was that the plot gets over 9 hours of sunlight each day.<br />
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We knew within a few days that they were happy. You could stand still and almost see the vines grow. Each morning brought more yellow blossoms.<br />
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We noticed a few weeks ago that there were several melons the size of goofballs. They've grown steadily since then.<br />
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This morning the rain moved off to the east and gave us a few minutes to get in some steps. We swung by to check on the melons and I snapped the picture below.<br />
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We need to do a little research to learn the right time to pick them. We are soooo excited.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-71188596418365981762020-06-28T19:01:00.001-05:002020-06-28T19:01:29.061-05:00Fairhope<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A few years ago, Jilda and I spent our anniversary in Fairhope, Alabama. Don't you just love that name? </div>
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Fairhope is less than an hour from the Gulf of Mexico, but it's nestled on the shores of Mobile Bay. It's a magical place, or it seems that way to us. </div>
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We've been to Fairhope many times.</div>
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When Hurricane Fredrick slammed into Mobile on September 12, 1979, it left much of the telephone company's infrastructure in tatters. </div>
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Construction crews went down first to set new poles and string miles of telephone cables. It took months for them to get the facilities ready to do mass restorals to the communities around Mobile. </div>
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I was in the next wave of crewmen who went in to reconnect homes. I spent weeks hanging 40 feet from the ground on telephone poles.</div>
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After a few weeks, I went home one weekend and loaded Jilda up along with our German Shepard Duke and took them back to Howard Johnsons with me. </div>
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She was a hit with the crew. She was cute, and she could cook. Each day while we worked, she'd go to the grocery store, buy up whatever she needed to feed 14 hungry phone guys.</div>
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After dinner, we would load up and drive over to Fairhope, sit on the pier, and watch the sunset. It was a beautiful thing.</div>
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If we did not live here, I would lobby for a place in Fairhope.</div>
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I shot this picture the last time we visited.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-85363360100378752482020-06-27T18:15:00.000-05:002020-06-27T18:15:03.398-05:00Ferns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The canopy over the road to our barn is so dense that very little light finds its way through to the floor.<br />
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A Google search had this to say about ferns - <i>The ferns constitute an ancient division of vascular plants, some of them as old as the Carboniferous Period (beginning about 358.9 million years ago) and perhaps older.</i><br />
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In years past, we went to Wally-World and bought flowers for the planters in our front yard. We haven't been inside Wally-World since mid-March.<br />
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While drinking coffee yesterday, Jilda suggested that I dig up a few clumps of ferns from the barn road and plant them in the planters instead of flowers. That sounded like a splendid idea.<br />
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Yesterday afternoon, the rain slacked up enough to go on a fern expedition. I grabbed a towel to wipe the rain off the seat of the tractor, tossed a sharpshooter in the trailer, and headed out.<br />
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For an instant, a shaft of sunlight navigated through the underbrush and highlighted this fern. There was no way I could not choose this one.<br />
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It only took a few minutes to dig up several other clumps of ferns. Less than twenty minutes later, they were nestled in our front yard planters.<br />
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The yard is mostly shaded, so I think they will do well there.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-20088034126216202322020-06-26T20:30:00.001-05:002020-06-26T20:30:22.063-05:00Interesting path<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One day in June of 1973</div>
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I was sitting in the sand at sunset.</div>
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It was a Sunday. </div>
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(The time and place were written on the back of the picture.)</div>
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I was on an island off the coast of Panama.</div>
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Home was 3,500 miles away</div>
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but it felt much further.</div>
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I wish I remembered what I was thinking</div>
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when my friend Dave took this picture.</div>
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I wish I'd kept a journal then. It would be interesting</div>
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to look back now at who I was then.</div>
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The path from this picture to where I am right now</div>
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has been interesting,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTU89TqQyR4yh-WjLfJV8-g2G_Gz9bl3gviOvRiq66nXwbCMABaiQ94wNvi0saSDUAkVwJV5N3PM9kcU8tsMRJBEi2ZeimnyDxhmFGlCYtyZ6vsy7HssJHbESMLs95mNlHMjQLew/s1600/rickSunset.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="506" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTU89TqQyR4yh-WjLfJV8-g2G_Gz9bl3gviOvRiq66nXwbCMABaiQ94wNvi0saSDUAkVwJV5N3PM9kcU8tsMRJBEi2ZeimnyDxhmFGlCYtyZ6vsy7HssJHbESMLs95mNlHMjQLew/s640/rickSunset.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-24750691424123758662020-06-25T20:40:00.000-05:002020-06-25T20:40:00.996-05:00First time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I got an email from the Associated Press this afternoon. Last week I interviewed a local coffee house owner about them putting a student center in the shop so that nearby high school and community college students could do homework, print papers, keep their devices charged all while hanging out with friends. The AP is running that story.<br />
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I've never had a story picked up by AP before, but their content is shared out to news outlets around the world. We'll see if anyone else sees it :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxTPeM6-vjpVDyfY2ieaD5UM_wM99BI20LW6wo_vWt8j3cuIfrfKyZwEgPPLNb0PZE8OtWqDZ8u1qw3onl1vUQbxUNXRzV7Ctyi1mYkfi_2ujefOpxHkN6I8Y1dJVCZ3jGAO7UMQ/s1600/1-TheBlendStudentCenterIMG_9178.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1579" data-original-width="1600" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxTPeM6-vjpVDyfY2ieaD5UM_wM99BI20LW6wo_vWt8j3cuIfrfKyZwEgPPLNb0PZE8OtWqDZ8u1qw3onl1vUQbxUNXRzV7Ctyi1mYkfi_2ujefOpxHkN6I8Y1dJVCZ3jGAO7UMQ/s640/1-TheBlendStudentCenterIMG_9178.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-64331325803947335822020-06-24T20:12:00.000-05:002020-06-24T21:18:49.369-05:00The rain returned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">It has rained on and off for most of the day.</span> </div>
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We walked between showers. </div>
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The dithering clouds were ash-gray one moment</div>
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and white as gauze the next.</div>
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The humidity was lickable. </div>
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On the second lap, </div>
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I noticed a pink Rose-of-Sharon blossom </div>
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at one corner of the house.</div>
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Before we reached the apple tree</div>
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The rain returned.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewPW_19xXKbx54rVTSqAyCSwzVFyd1j9Lq2xWphH0_qESFwZO41RWrq6oWC-QuluUPi9FienyVDwtz1vvXGqo-r0nuP1oXosoAyh6pVWgXLwjXTWlbuOdDtjfIBHGLhJ4do3whg/s1600/PurpleRoseOfSharon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewPW_19xXKbx54rVTSqAyCSwzVFyd1j9Lq2xWphH0_qESFwZO41RWrq6oWC-QuluUPi9FienyVDwtz1vvXGqo-r0nuP1oXosoAyh6pVWgXLwjXTWlbuOdDtjfIBHGLhJ4do3whg/s640/PurpleRoseOfSharon.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-82744720126547643002020-06-23T18:52:00.002-05:002020-06-23T18:52:48.423-05:00Power problems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We're batting a thousand this week. Our power has been off and on for the last three days. Storms moved through on Sunday and blew trees down on the lines. The power was off for about 10 hours.<br />
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A mischievous squirrel farted on the lines yesterday. I'm guessing that's what it was because there was not a cloud in the sky. The power was off for four hours.<br />
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I had a content meeting at work today. While I was away, our great nephew Jordan and his mom came over. He was out on the deck when the wind began to blow. He noticed the powerlines that run by the house and on to the barn were fizzing and arcing. It freaked him out. A moment later, the power was off. Jilda called and broke the news to me during my drive home.<br />
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Typically when I report a power outage, there is no way to talk to a human. This time when I called to report the problem, I reported a dangerous condition. BINGO. It transferred me to a living, breathing person.<br />
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Less than an hour later, there was a technician from the Power Company at our house. I showed him the issue with the lines to the barn, and about 30 minutes later, that problem was resolved, and our lights were back on.<br />
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I'm hoping this does the trick.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-63119693030163341062020-06-22T17:40:00.002-05:002020-06-22T17:40:45.892-05:00Stormy day in June<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last night I wrote my blog entry on my phone. It's always a little wonky, but manageable. At 11:30 p.m., the light blinked on. The AC began cooling the house down immediately.<br />
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This morning, I was feeding the chickens when I heard the phrase "WELL SHIT." Without asking, I knew the power was off again.<br />
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I'm not sure if the storm yesterday broke limbs that waited until this morning to fall on the lines again or what. It took crewmen five hours to get our lights back on.<br />
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Thankfully, an occasional cool breeze made the screen porch comfortable enough to write some stories for the paper.<br />
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This afternoon, more storms swept through, but thankfully the lights stayed on. We'll have another day of turbulent weather tomorrow.<br />
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I drove to the gas station and bought gas for the generator – just in case.<br />
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Below, the bleeding heart flower that Jilda's grandmother gave her is showing out on the deck.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19517251.post-65067431950088589582020-06-21T20:48:00.001-05:002020-06-22T17:19:31.105-05:00No power<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thunderstorms swept through this afternoon and took our power.</div>
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We’re sitting here in the dark.</div>
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On an upnote, while sitting on the back deck, a monarch stopped by to say hello.<br />
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UPDATE-Power came on at 11:30 p.m. and went off this morning at 8 a.m.<br />It came back on at noon.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Life stories, writing, music, advice, southern, Alabama, </div>Rick Watsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01005727239466916086noreply@blogger.com7