Where is Spring?

A good day to be alive

Summer, an abundance of beauty and life

A great way to end the summer

A zero day, a cold wind and not user friendly

Spring is waking up, wriggling her toes, peeking out from under her cover, but it is not time to make her entrance. She has much to do before her arrival, choosing a dress of a delicate color of green to wear and a bonnet of flowering blooms. She must select a chrous of birds to anounce her arrival and many have yet to return to the Ozarks. There must be a blamy breeze laden with her fragrance and it is still lingering south of us. Winter still has a hold on the land and will not give up easly, but take heed Winter Spring is coming in all of her beauty and compassion.Adios

A Misty Moon and a Butterfly

Queen Misty Moon

Princess Butterfly

One morning about three years ago, I was about to leave my tool shed, when a kitten as wild as fox sped past me and ran under the floor. It was an especially brief encounter, but I was able to see the kitten quite clearly and it was wonderfully marked with every color of the royal cat kingdom. Several days or weeks later my wife came in contact with the little stray and in time caught it with food. The kitten was a female and scrappy and independent. She knew how to take care of herself more or less. My wife named her Misty Moon for her beautiful colors. She was taken to the Vet for a checkup, shots and made sterile and it wasn’t long and she began sharing our home with us, but mostly on her own terms. She finally settled down and became a queen, pampered and petted and she grew into a most beautiful cat and devoted to my wife. I on the other hand was her servant until one day she decided to up my rank a bit and we became friends. My wife and I were perfectly happy with Misty and did not considered adopting another cat, one of the reasons being we did not want to upset Misty.

One morning my wife and I started on our walk, when from the window of an old store in town we saw a tiny cat sitting in a window of the building mewing plaintively. The cat was extremely beautifully marked with many colors that most calicos are. The sight of the cat and obvious distress of the animal trouble her. Later and it may have been the same day in the evening the little cat came to the front porch, mewing I suppose for food. The process began again. The cat was female and pregnant, much too small for that. She was named Butterfly for her many colors. My wife and one of our daughters combined their efforts and soon Butterfly was housed in a large maternity cage. Butterfly gave birth to six kittens that soon became a bit much to handle. But all went well and when it was time to wean them, the kittens stayed with our daughter and Butterfly came home with us to live in the barn. All six kittens were taken in the home of our daughter and oh are there stories to tell. She, like Misty was taken to the vet for a checkup, shots and made sterile. Butterfly went through a winter in the barn, harassed often by opossums and raccoons and even though she was secured in a cage at night it must have been terrifying to the small waif. I will fast forward to the present. After much discussions and concerns for Butterfly, she was brought into our home to live with us, much to Misty’s objections. Butterfly was afraid of me, which did not help matters, but a few months have passed now and the transition is still an on going process and slowly Butterfly has become a truly wonderful friend to me. She is a princess, loving and devoted to us and her new home. Only time will tell as to what kind of relationship the cats will have, but hopefully, at least tolerant of one anther. Adios.

2011

I have at last reurned and am delighted to be back and I am looking forward to the new year. For those who have yet to travel with me, why not take the time and hit the trail that leads to Bare Foot Pass. It is a long journey with much to see and so we begin again and I hope you find it interesting. And check the attic now and then.

Our Christmas tree with over seventy years of memories hanging from its branches

Heidi is well and more beautiful than ever

A harsh ending to the old year, with snow and forty mile an hour wind

2011
I will begin this New Year after a relative but pleasant delay on my journey South Through Bare Foot Pass. I enjoyed last year for the most part of it even though I took a break from writing, woodcarving and painting. I turned everything off and instead focused on other endeavors such as enjoying my guns, (peaceful guns). I love to shoot, both modern and percussion weapons. I am not into the semiautomatic varieties including the large and intimidating assault handguns and rifles. A young man a member of the posse I belonged to made light of a handgun I was carrying and remarked to me. “My gun shoots sixteen rounds,” The gun he was making fun of was a double barrel thirty eight special. My reply to him was after I pointed to a tree about twenty feet from where we stood. “Stand over there; if I have to shoot someone it will be up close and personal and one shot will suffice.” He of course declined and shut up. And while on the subject I decided to end my association with the posse. I am not interested in tracking or apprehending bad people, nor am I gung ho, willing to show off a brace of pistols strapped to my thighs. I joined the posse to help when someone became lost or help during a felon hunt, securing roads and trails where necessary. Traffic control and parking was also a vital aspect of the posse. I met and obtained many new friends while on the posse, but I am glad to be free of it. My thoughts have again turned to writing and perhaps in time publish another book or two. One book I have started, a sequel to Tiddleson, Son of Tiddle is tickling my imagination and I will again soon be in the thick of the ongoing adventures of the tiny Amicus people. I have learned the imagination has no boundaries and it is awesome. At least two new characters have joined the Amicus, of which all stand no taller than a dandelion stem. Mitsu a petite Amicus woman of Japanese heritage only two inches in height is a prominent and wise, but obscure woman in the Amicus clan. Akio a huge white cricket standing as tall as Mitsu is her companion and fiercely loyal and is three hundred years of age and much more intelligent that most Mendex, (large humans). And then there is Sir Albern Weedon. Another book in the planning is to be nonfiction and features the prehistory Indians of the Niangua River Basin. The book will contain many years of searching for the remnants of these elusive people along the meandering rivers and streams and within the caves and overhangs and field sites where secrets abound. The book represents an adventure that took me to places where most people will never be. I have found comfort from time to time while goofing off snuggled in my blanket amidst the yesterdays, reminiscing and yes still learning from those bygone eras and gently touching dusty relics of the past that were once an important aspect of my life. The past is as much alive as is the present and should never be ignored lest one misses a vital part of a new day and forget to look toward the distant horizon for fear of being ridiculed by the masses. I am proud to say I wear a San Angelo Stetson and not a cap that is currently in style and boots that are timeless instead of plastic sandals that quickly become outdated and thrown onto the trash heaps of man, but everyone to their own druthers and rightly so. More and more people are massed together than ever before and it is difficult to distinguish individuals as they plod along in their current style clothing. Even the faces are set the same as if that to is in style. If something occurs that disrupts or excites the mass all will follow to whatever disastrous outcome may occur. It is not that I have lost faith in humanity, just their ability to think and function as an individual. I see them pass me by, their eyes set ahead, their feet pointed outward, all going somewhere, but nowhere. This of course is typical for after all the Earth is round and for the most there is nothing better to do. Over the years I have lost contact with friends of who were important to me, for they were truly individuals. One friend in particular is a man called Two Lanterns fading at times into the past but always a part of the present. Two Lanterns if you read this let me know. I now face a new year and where it will take me is unknown. I am content with that aspect of life. I must admit that once in awhile I see someone in the mass of people around me that stands out, looking not directly ahead, but everywhere, seeing the world as it is and ready to strike off from the crowd. So I am not alone and until I reach my destination I will continue to explore and look about me and beyond. I welcome all to explore my blog on the trail to Bare Foot Pass. Check out my books, carvings and paintings and in the attic there are trunks yet to be opened. One name that should be kept in mind is Fletch Gideon. He is a big man and wears a tall Stetson; worn slick by time and strangely the hatband is a piece of rusty barbed wire. And then there is the story of the rescue on the Niangua River during a flood and only I was willing to take on the river, but a stranger stepped forward and asked to accompany me. Deep within one of the dusty trunks in the attic there lays a story once published of ghosts, spirits and such. I swore not to reveal it again, but I have decided to edit it a bit and bring it forth. I cannot honestly say that I believe in ghosts, spirits and such, yet I have written of them and created havoc on a small town. There is nothing more chilling than to be presence of a specter yet I have not been harmed by the alleged presence of them. There have been sights and sounds that have troubled me, quite severely, yet I have always rationalized those phenomenal and elusive sights and sounds. Adios