Whew! We’ve had a yo-yo bout of weather the last 48 hours at Damphewmore Acres. On Friday, my New Mexico fishin’ buddy, ol’ Albie Kirky, and I were fishing in a watershed and the temperature wuz in the mid-90s with humidity so high that you could break into a full sweat by just expending the effort to lick the roof of your mouth.
That evening, a huge storm front moved in from the northwest and brought with it high winds, eight-tenths of an inch of needed rain, and a temperature drop within 10 minutes from the 90s down to 63 degrees.
We were lucky. No hail and the only wind damage wuz the toppling of a big ol’ hollow-cored hackberry tree. The tree wuz big enuf that I could barely push and pull it off our little-used driveway with my tractor and loader. Know anyone who wants to cut some easy firewood in mid-summer?
I’ll add that Albie and I caught a goodly number of fish during his 3-days here, but we paid a price for them in sweat. But we tried to remedy the heat by imbibing our fair share of refreshingly cool beverages of our choice.
A couple of “finny” things happened to us while fishing. First, a big bass tried to inhale a big yellow bobber that I wuz retrieving to the bank. It didn’t take the errant fish long to realize it’s mistake. The same couldn’t be said for a smaller bass. I wuz fishing with ultra-light line and the fish broke off. However, a few minutes later, I caught the same bass with the broken line and hook sticking out of its mouth. Now that’s a stupid fish.
I had a varmint attack on my tomato patch. The raccoons decided they liked the compost I planted the tomatoes in — so they dug most of the plants out two nights in a row. That called for a varmint war. I won. Two big raccoons and a big possum lost. PETA needn’t investigate.
Love eating early garden produce. Right now we’re harvesting new potatoes, peas, green beans, lettuce, spinach, swiss chard, kale, zucchini, and a few hot peppers. Sadly, the sweet corn and tomatoes are still weeks away.
Here’s a cute story. A full-fledged 8-year-old cowboy wuz waiting for his mother outside the local farm supply store. As he sat there on the bench, he was approached by a man who asked, “Hey, little man, can you tell me where the Post Office is?”
The little boy replied, “Sure! Just go straight down this street two blocks and turn to your right. It’s on the left.”
The man thanked the boy kindly, complimented him on how bright he was and said, “I’m the new pastor in town. If you and your mommy come to church on Sunday, I’ll show you how to get to Heaven.”
The little boy sighed deeply, then chuckled and said; “You’ve got to be kidding. You can’t even find the Post Office.”
Here’s another similar story, but a bit more ribald.
A devout rural preacher was seated next to a robust cowboy on a flight to Texas. After the plane took off, the cowboy asked for a double-shot whiskey and soda, which was brought and placed before him.
The flight attendant innocently then asked the preacher if he would like a similar drink. Appalled, the preacher replied, “I’d rather be tied up and dance dirty in a seedy cowboy bar, than let liquor touch my lips.”
The cowboy then handed his drink back to the attendant and said, “Me, too. I didn’t know we had that choice.”
I’m on a roll now. Here’s a third “religious” story. Plus, it’s got a moral to it.
A visiting priest was attending a mens’ breakfast in farm country. He asked one of the impressive older farmers in attendance to say grace that morning. After all were seated, the older farmer began. “Lord, I hate buttermilk.”
The priest opened one eye and wondered to himself where this was going.
Then the farmer loudly proclaimed, “Lord, I hate lard, too.”
Now the Priest was overly worried. However without missing a beat, the farmer prayed on, “And, Lord, you know I don’t care much for raw white flour.”
Just as the priest was ready to stand and stop everything, the farmer continued, “But, Lord, when you mix ‘em all together and bake ‘em up, I do love fresh biscuits. So, Lord, when things come up we don’t like, when life gets hard, when we just don’t understand what you are sayin’ to us, we just need to relax and wait ‘til you’re done mixin’, and probably it will be somethin’ even better than biscuits. Amen.”
I’ll end this column with things overheard at the coffee shop:
“We’ll always be best friends because you know too much.”
“Either you love bacon …. or you’re wrong!”
“You betcha’ I’m good in bed. I can stay there until almost noon.”
“The secret to being happy is having a good sense of humor and a dirty mind.”
“I know when friends are secretly texting. Seriously, no one just looks down at their crotch and smiles.”
Mop your brow and have a good ‘un.