There was a pile of firewood beside the fireplace, a string of red chilis hung from a beam, and on the white ashes stood a black coffeepot and a slowly simmering iron kettle.”
Come on in pard, just a-sittin’ here waitin’ for you to show up. ‘Nother week gone by and pretty soon it will be the holidays. Now, this ol’ fence post don’t see no sense in callin’ that witches’ day a holiday, so thinking past that to Thanksgiving and Christmas. Whatdya think of that coffee? Made it strong this mornin’. I’m not one that hankers coffee from Africa, prefer others, but this one is on my favorites list now: Ethiopian Sidamo Guji. How ’bout that for a name?
Grand mornin’, would sure like to get out in the woods, or be in the High Lonesome next to some stream, just idling the time. But that’s no good, is it pard? Have to be good stewards of our time, just as with our money. Now, don’t get me wrong. There is a time for relaxin’ and a time for recuperatin’ from the work of the week. The soul and the mind need refreshin’ like the body. Maybe that’s what getting old means–refreshin’ the soul from years of toil.
Seemed like a long week, so goin’ to take my ease this mornin’, do a few chores ’round the house. There sure is mucho philosophyzing goin’ on these days. Politics is the word of the season. Most of it lacks common sense and courtesy, but I was readin’ somethin’ about folks arguing ’bout the purpose of the strap on a spur. Ever done much thinkin’ on it? No, ‘course not, but some out there have to get all psychological ’bout everything. Wear it one way and your this type of person and so on. Let me give you the truth of the matter from an ol’ buckaroo, Waddie Mitchell.
“But the truth…though I am sure there’s
Those among you who will scoff
Is that a spur strap’s merely there
To keep your spurs from falling off!”
Smile through the day, and pard, don’t you forget to check that cinch.