It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in and hereabouts of the little blue house at the end of the road. I decorated the interior of the Sartor's humble abode.
Some of the holiday trimmings are old, handed down treasures of past generations of loved ones, old friends, and other decorative seasonal items are new. All marry well, as my eyes see it.
I depend on Mother Nature to help decorate the outside of our place. She spread out a soft white blanket last night. The fluffy white ground cover is thin and a wee bit threadbare in places, at this point, but the landscape is Christmas card perfect. I have the spirit and it is awake!
I searched out the wild rabbit trap that my father gave me many years ago. Pot pie came to mind, but the thought of that quickly vanished when my softer side took charge of my wild plan. The rotting apple tumbled from the set, rolled out the trap's door, and exposed its brown naked flesh, fair game to the non-picky finder(s).
I carried the wire-trap and a generous smile, all the way back to the storage shed, and sat it beside the rusty keepsake steel traps resting in the vintage fruit shipping crate, still waiting to snap to it again, someday.
Before I could ditch our unisex Carhart jacket and works boots, I heard the harsh raucous calls of a couple of anxious and greedy crows. The wasting red delicious apple soon left the ground and was no more.
I waited until the evening shadows fell and the feathered guys with the wandering eyes were hunkered down for night, high in their not so secret hide-away. Then, this old softy donned the outerwear again armed with one more good deed of the day to deliver from up her sleeve. I dug deep into the barrel and found a few fully filled out ears of field corn to feed that spared rabbit.
This morning, it was clear to me the food had been fairly shared by the lucky little critter and his, now, far from famished, furry family and friends.
I drank in a panoramic view of my surroundings. I warmed to the winter chill in the air, quickly. Everything appeared bright and right in my world. A thank you was mine to give.
Mother Nature gives me pleasure without measure over and over again-God is good!
I am facing a life-changing situation, oh yes, I am! The "Coffee Lady" has been asked by her health care provider to limit her intake of the black caffeine enhanced beverage to a trickle. In short, a morning cup and little more were suggested. Cold turkey won't work, I hear. Besides that may bring on a head pounding temple throbbing headache that I don't need.
Now I am not blaming anyone for my out- of- control addiction, not even the little sailor that introduced me to a cup of that "TOXIC" bitter brew back in the day, 1957. He didn't twist my arm then and that old coffee-guzzling geezer can't help me now.
This unapologetic soul was brewing, sipping, and gulping down the stuff everyday since, well over the limit, far beyond reasonable measures. Yes, my friends my body reveals; I have sinned, big time! I drank the black tonic from plastic, paper and fine China, copper clad aluminum and tin, full cups and bottoms ups and, Juan Valdez; I honor him. I watched for sales and yet to be invented decorative cans with bails.
I have brewed my get - up and go juice in simple percolators, large and small. Sophisticated machines, I've tried 'em all!
Tablecloths, vessels, and teeth bore the stains and still I drank until the power packer flowed through every vein and out the drain. Now, I task toward the refrain. I ponder; will the struggle be in vain? Will Mother Nature help me make it through the day or should I buy a cow and make milk my mainstay?
Oh my, I am in trouble! I can't break away from the company that I keep. I can't throw away my spotty coaster from across the water or my partner in crime. No!
It's not the end of the world. I'm working toward the wagon and when I reach it; this patient will hold on to her cure, maybe.
Forgive me for writing about my weakness, but today I have progress to share. I must quote the late James Brown, "I feel good!" I haven't had a drink for fifty -five minutes and counting!
Well folks, that old clock on the wall is telling me to wrap it up and whip up some dinner and pour the cranberry juice.
I can be reached at 446-4852 or drop me a line to 613 North Elm St., Brazil, IN., 47834 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.