The Rock Wall

Well, what’s on your mind this week?

I spend as little time as possible watching the national news.

I did watch most of an interview Mark Levin did with Attorney General William Barr.  Two impressive men. So calm and matter of fact.

– I think I’ve about recovered from the Picnic. I don’t know if the heat or the threat of the virus kept people home.  Either one was a good enough excuse for me.

Years ago, when Becky Wood was on our payroll, she lamented that the City Council couldn’t find a cooler time to hold the Picnic.  You know, that may be the reason the reason the Hightowers stopped at the Spring on July 20, 1881 – their horses were hot and needed to cool down.

– When I was a teenager, the heat didn’t bother me. Dad baled square bales back then and we put them in the barn before they got wet.

I started off working as the junior member of a crew driving the truck for a cent and a half a bale. As my strength increased, I helped load the wagons and trucks, helped put the hay back in the barns and made a little more money. I have no idea how I was able to stack bales back in a hot barn loft.

– The other day Jeanne Hoagland mentioned picking blackberries and selling them to raise Picnic money. Been there. Done that. Also picked dewberries. I think the going rate might have been $1.25 a gallon for either.

The chiggers were free. Still are, I think.

– Jack, our new kitten at almost two years old, is a talker. He has something to say about everything, anything, all the time.

Jeanne Hoagland said her husband, John, was at the restaurant the other day and someone found a stray cat was going to dispose of it. John said, “No.” He’d take it.

Jeanne said that John immediately established a credibility gap with the new kitten. He told him he was going to take him to the spa which turned out to be the vet’s office. The kitten got “the works”, bath, pedicure, shots and a minor surgery.

Back at home, the cat tells everyone whether they listen or not. Daughter Spencer home for a visit, said, “Mom, does he ever shut up?”

The answer was “No.”

Jack is quiet when he sleeps on a footstool by the end of the bed and cedar chest. But try to sneak by him and he will soon track you down and give you one of his tiny meows. I tried to invert him Monday like I did Caddeaux for years. That’s gonna take some practice.

Kimball seems to be his favorite. He follows her everywhere she goes and gets in the middle of anything she is working on.

Grandaughter Reese prefers Kimball, too.

I was supposed to take grandson Ben fishing Saturday morning. At daylight, thunderbooomers announced the weather conditions. Not wanting fishing rods to become lightning rods, I didn’t even have to call anybody. Back in my single days, I remember fishing in a tournament on Lay Lake in Alabama with Phillip Upchurch with lightning pealing around.

After Adrian and Davis were born, I remember sitting in a bowstand on a hillside and seeing a lightning bolt several miles away. I thought, “I’ve got responsibilities,” climbed down and went home. KL