There were three big ol’ turkey gobblers doing their best to impress the lady turkeys in the clearing west of the rock house when we arrived in McBride Canyon yesterday morning just before sunup. They were all puffed up, tails fanned out and how they did strut as the hens nonchalantly pecked at the ground and pretended not to notice. They were impressive and we got to hear some first rate turkey gobbles, too. After they moved on Joyce started breakfast while I started a fire. It was chilly and the girls warmed themselves by the fire once it got going good. Joyce fried bacon and scrambled eggs on Genna’s Coleman stove. We’d never used it before and found that it worked very well. Joyce had the foresight to break the eggs and put them in a mason jar before we left so all she had to do was dump them in the old frying pan that hadn’t been used in over 30 years. The conditions were ideal for a campfire breakfast and we enjoyed it immensely. We also enjoyed a visit to the river where Chris, Abigail and Rebecca got filthy muddy. Kari ran the girls through the shower in the shop when we got home before she let them in the house. Before leaving we did a little rock hounding. We were back home by early afternoon.
Last Sunday afternoon A, R and I went to the golfcourse to do a little putting. We had just stepped onto the practice green when a ball thudded next to Abigail, coming very close to hitting her. I looked around to see what fool had so badly hit their shot as to land it on the practice green, not roll it on mind you, but have it come from enough altitude to dig a hole half the width of the ball deep, but no one appeared to claim it. I put the ball, a Calloway, in my pocket and waited for someone to come looking for it so I could counsel them to exercise caution but noone ever showed up. That would have been just great, to take my granddaughters to the golf course for the first time and get one of them hit with a ball.