There’s something about the sound of running water, the crackle and smell and smoke of a fire, the spatter and sizzle of bacon washed down with good coffee, alone on the trail. It cleanses the soul, clears the thoughts, makes room for new hope.”
–J. V. James (Old)
Pard, whatcha goin’ t’ be doin’ on Monday? Watchin’ the eclipse? Don’t yuh be a-worryin’ none, for it won’t be the end of the world as some folks are a-sayin’. But be careful Pard, I’ve heard some say that it yuh drink coffee durin’ the eclipse yuh might start to sweatin’ and wash yurself away. In fact, there’s some out there that declare that if’n yuh got an itch and spill coffee durin’ the eclipse the next mornin’ yuh’ll wake up covered in warts. Don’t know for sure–just a-sayin’ for yuh to be careful.
Pard, yuh remember that eclipse back along the Gunnison when we was bein’ beset by a horde of evil? It wasn’t an eclipse of the sun, but more of good and godly principles, kinda like we’re a-seein’ now in this country. We was sittin’ there, sorta like the feller above. Listenin’ to the rush of the water, a warm fire blazin’ away, and a pot of coffee ready for the drinkin’. If’n I remember it right ol’ Tom was gettin’ ready to throw a line out in the river to catch a mess of trout for supper. It was then that a feelin’ of downright evil came on us. The air was thick with the imps prancin’ around. Ol’ Tom near broke his rod throwin’ it down and landin’ on it with his knee. It was a rough go for a spell, but we prayed, and prayed, until the air cleared and all was fresh again.
Yuh know, there are times when yuh just can feel evil, and other times when yuh can see it plain on a face as a child lickin’ the frostin’ bowl. This eclipse ain’t no hoodoo, but it’s another sign of the times. What was it the Lord said, there’d be signs in the heavens? Yuh best be ready for them, for they’re a-comin’. So many things happenin’ so fast, so Pard, take time to enjoy yur coffee. Look up, and grab holt of new hope the Lord will be comin’ soon.
Coffee’s good ain’t it? Smooth, makes the ol’ gizzard sit up an’ smile. Gettin’ a little nostalgic with what we’re a-talkin’ about, and readin’ what ol’ J.V. wrote. Nice sittin’ here, lookin’ out the kitchen window, but my, wouldn’t it be grand to be along some stream up in the high lonesome? Bacon, or trout, fryin’ in a skillet over a fire with a pot of coffee there for the pourin’. Most likely, Pard, those days are over, but my, didn’t we have the times?
Be thankin’ the Lord for the hope He has given us, and for the times we shared. And, Pard, yuh best not be mountin’ up durin’ the eclipse. Yuh jist might not be able to see well enough to tighten that cinch.
Vaya con Dios.