A while back Curtis had refurbished the inside of an old school bus. I'd been hearing about it for a while and finally got to check it out. As with any project he has taken on, he had done an exceptional job with the bus.
Three bunks, bathroom (with shower), table, television, gear storage area and lots of shelves for eatin accesories.... coffee, creamer, dry goods, etc.
All the comforts of home and to top it off, there happened to be a nice level concrete pad on the property to park it on. That pad not only made for a nice level spot to park the bus, it was also big enough so that you could sit around in the morning or evening and enjoy a drink or whatever was appropriate for the time of day.
I got a good nights sleep even though the bunk I slept in (which Curtis had pronounced fit for tall guys like me) was just a wee bit short. A minor inconvenience which would have been no problem at all if I didn't like a couple a big pillows under my head.
Heck! I didn't even mind that it felt a little like being in a coffin with one side open. After all, you only have so much room to work with in a bus!
With the sun sitting somewhere just below the horizon CK and I took a steaming cup of hot coffee outside to greet the day and make our plans.
For him it would be business as usual and he'd be off to work a little before eight.
I mulled over the idea of heading back out to try and ambush a hog or some other unsuspecting critter, but frankly wasn't quite back to normal yet. Besides, I had business of my own in town. There was a hole in the back of my truck where glass had been and I needed to fill it.
We sipped on coffee and talked of hunts past and hunts to come. The mists of early morning hung over the meadows that surronded us and the air fell sweet and cool on my bare arms. It was a good morning and a reminder that this is what life is really all about. My cares were starting to fade.
The day was spent taking care of insurance matters and dozing on the couch back at the Kellar rancherita.
I shot a few arrows in the afternoon and in all was one lazy sucker. Soon Curtis and Debbie would be home from work and we'd spend an enjoyable evening visiting.
I can't forget the first of what would be many gifts I was blessed with during my stay in Texas.
A package arrived for me from Trad Ganger Chuck Pearson. It was certainly out of the blue and I was tickled to find a brand new pair of camo pants in it.
I was a little skeptical that they could possibly fit... since I'm a big ole boy... but they were perfect. Now if I could just find a camo top or something close to camo, I'd be set for hog hunting.
On Friday morning I slipped away from the house for a trip into the woods Curtis and I call Sherwood. We'd shared many adventures there in the past and I went looking for another.
I'll admit I was a little slow getting started and that may account for the reason I didn't find any game to harrass, but it was good to be out anyway.
I'd circled around to enter the brush with the predominant wind in my face. With each approach to known hog hang outs, I'd ready an arrow on the string and slow way down. But it was just not meant to happen.
Through the area where everything is covered by a plant called "Grandfather's Beard"... a tiny vine like plant that creates shady grottoes that the hogs just love.
Up to the pond where piggy sign was abundant... especially in a year like this one that is so very dry... and finally I wound around through the gate where years before I'd about been run over by a coyote responding to Curtis' vigorous rattling for deer and where he'd arrowed a nice bobcat within minutes of the kamikaze dog.
Finally I eased off up a dusty track that led to the main road, finding it unusually brushy, and stopped for a while near the skeletons of the old farm place, which always set the short hairs on the back of my neck bristling... couldn't possibly say why that is.
The rest of the day would find me getting the glass in my truck replaced and then off to the closest "big" town for a little shopping.
Absolutely nobody had any camo of any sort. Well, there was one shop in the mall that had some.
I tried to make small talk about it with the girl that worked there, trying not to stare at the tatoos adorning her arms or the five pounds of earrings that obscured her eyebrows and ears, while some very hateful and loud music pounded in my own ears.
"Oh yeah", I said with a wry smile and casting a glance at a vibrating speaker, "I've got that album"... I don't think she got it.
The urban camo they did have in there seemed to be made for Hobits and I left in short order. I didn't have much interest in the rest of the inventory which seemed to be mostly comprised of leather things with lots of chrome studs and spikes.
Topic: Firewood is gathered(C Lamb story) (Read 6550 times)
