THE SUMMER OF OUR CONTENT

"Now is the summer of our content....
   made glorious...."

In his fertile

    and facts-packed-mind

down south there at

        his beloved farm

it was tuning out to be

    a fine summer---

          maybe even

    the halcyon time of his

                 life...

Wild Peach was green and

    as marvelous-looking 

       as he could remember

even tho' the spring

           garden was 

      already done, either et up

or in freezers

It was satisfying to know that

      even the old talkin'

Gnarledy Oaks

           had both grown

      another ring!

And soon his favorite cotton gin

        would have oodles and 

      gobs of fermented hulls

and other detritus he could 

          get and haul for free

      to feed his fall plants---

("fermented cotton debris": a 

     wonderful smell to a 

scientist; think of all those---

            bacteria!)

Down at the pond, where he 

    was wont to settle down

with a good book, and read

      in the shade...and fish

The bass were jumpin' early

             mornings 

      and the catfish were 

                a' growin'

to beat sixty---and the crappie 

     had got as big as 

              Magic's hands

The Red Barn, a famous 

    landmark on the 

        coast, shone big time

in the bright sun, even tho'

    Ole Sol was already headed 

back south, 

            toward Capricorn.

People galore stop by--those

     pesky tourists, asking: 

"Can we see in that Red Barn?"

                   and

"Got any mud-bugs for sale?"

A rare wild pig or javelina wanders

     onto the property     

                     now and then

and he dispatches it with his 410 and

      it becomes sausage 

                    in one of freezers

It's been nigh onto half-a-year

     since the little three-year-old

          tyke with no diaper and

his little pee-pee showing,

              somehow

      wandered onto the place

          and rang Doc's  doorbell

during breakfast...

           just one of the fine

   stories he is wont to tell

He is not in his dotage, but still

     may be seen sitting 

          under the Old Oaks,

      talking and passing 

the time...with his favorite trees...

All things considered...

     "The Doc," as he is 

affectionately referred to in these

     parts, and his lovely wife

will tell you they have had 

            "a glorious summer"

"But we will miss the 'Little Gators'

         when they are gone."

***************

BY MIL

7 JULY 17