Adventure

Stepping out onto the front porch of my family's quaint little house I caught a breeze from the north. I took a deep breath of the cool air. It smelled of wild berries and distant rain. Though, for July, the air was quite cool, almost foreign and chilly. I eyed the watermelon patch to the west just beyond the drive to the house hoping to spot the little melon sprouts only transplanted last week. If it weren't for the mice we might have had double the watermelons to sell on the market this year, I thought.

Looking down to finish tying my shoes which were tightly knotted, I glimpsed a figure to my left emerging from under my Ford Pick-up. It was probably Fuzzbuster -- my happy outdoor cat who seems to get fatter and fatter from the spoils my family provides him -- milk, meat, and even gummy bears from which I am convinced line his stomach with that irresistable baby squish that visiters enjoy. But it wasn't him. Yanking on my remaining shoe and half-tripping over the laces I awkwardly flailed to the truck.

It wasn't long before I scared the poor thing as it hopped back behind the barn. This particular jack rabbit is close to being considered a pet on the family farm, but because of the coyotes, and Frank (our golden lab retriever), certain death awaited it from different angles -- poor thing. Perhaps later I'll build it an outdoor shelter. Of course that would be more of a death trap for it.

It would have to wait. The day is fresh and the land calls.