The Good Stuff

My sweet daddy, at eighty-nine, had a health episode at church this past Sunday that caused my Mom and my brothers to insist on a trip to the ER (in Amarillo no less, 110 miles away). The attending doc pronounced that maybe he had a heart attack, maybe not, that his heart rate was fluctuating between 38 beats and 90 beats. My parents chose to forego a night in the hospital and further tests

Wild Turkey Morning at Heron Lake

I stood at the window and watched a wild turkey parade go by this morning, across the driveway and up the hill into the pinons. One, two, three, four, five, six, eight, ten, twelve, and finally fourteen if I counted correctly. They are so goofy and regal at the same time, scurrying and bobbing their ugly heads as if they don’t know how unattractive they are, holding themselves very erect. At that moment they unquestionably owned that spot of ground on which they stand.