The smoke could be seen from the road. Gently it billowed up into the blue sky. As we turned off the road onto the dirt driveway we could easily see the source of the smoke. It was Thanksgiving weekend and Mimi’s birthday, and the smoke was from the fire in the pasture. As I looked to the place in the pasture where the brush was piled and burning, I could see little boys stoking the fire with their sticks as in years past. Little girls were there being properly ignored, but taking in the aroma and building the memories that will last all their lives. No matter what happens in the future, these memories are etched permanently in that place in the brain where the memories of pleasurable events are stored.
There were new babies this year and a new requirement for cribs. The cribs required bedrooms so the babies would not keep others awake in the event they had a hard time sleeping. So Mimi and Grandpa all of a sudden were out of a room. Actually, other accommodations could have been made, but it was just easier on all for us to go to town and stay in the motel. As it turned out, the motel was being renovated by the new owners and it was nice, clean and cheap! We were afraid that perhaps the train, which passes just yards from the motel, would awaken us often as the trains rumbled through town. But, we heard not a click nor a clack and we slept well. We stayed at the house late in the evenings and arrived in time for breakfast every morning….usually via the way of Wal-Mart! After our experience, others are now thinking that they may volunteer to stay at the motel in the future.
As the weekend got into full swing, I noticed that the fire in the pasture was often going unattended. Where were the boys? What happened to the girls and their directing the efforts of the boys to make the fire burn better? Nintendo. The boys had graduated to the electronic age and were engaged in whatever little boys play on a DS. The little girls wondered around and played what little girls play when boys are not attending the fire. The older boys were gearing up for the hunt. There was target practice and the sighting in of the sights on the rifles. Learning safety tips from their Dads and making sure the cammo was properly worn. And the older girls were just being older girls…trying to figure out how they could get someone to take them shopping. They settled for the movies with Aunt Cindy, to see a vampire and to eat at Olive Garden.
By the weekend the rain had stopped and the kids were outside. I noticed that no one was at the fire. Then I noticed that the fire in the pasture had drowned. All during the rain, the fire continued to smoke, but in the end, it was no match for the rain and humidity. Not so for the enthusiasm of the kids and the parents. And next year our 5 year olds will be 6 year olds; a whole new crop of boys at the age to stoke the fire and a bunch of girls to tell them how to do it. And the hunter’s? Well, there is always next year!
With the words, “Color guards, post colors”, the Eagle Scout Court of Honor was under way. Joshua was receiving the Eagle Scout rank he had earned during his youth as a Boy Scout. The Weblos Den from Ashdown that Jacob belongs to was the color guard. These younger Scouts proudly carried the American and Troop flags to the front and upon command from the Senior Patrol Leader (and Eagle Scout Candidate), the boys placed the colors in the flag holder on each side of the rostrum. In the front, facing the audience was the Eagles Nest, the area where all those holding the rank of Eagle Scout sat. The program progressed and then it was time for comments of encouragement to the new Eagle Scout. “We call him “Pooter” “, stated Uncle Chad. Aunt Heather then explained how he got that name and the integrity that the name “Pooter” represented.
Then Brandon came forward, and with all the Priesthood still in the front, Brandon took a seat and his Dad, Brett, ordained him to the office of Teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. What a special time for all three that Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.
On Saturday afternoon, Gunner, Hilary’s dog, was loving life on the farm. He was out renewing friendships with the family dogs and checking out the wildlife. Flower wasn’t as gentle and sweet as he was in Bambi. Flower left his calling card all over Gunner. Gunner then got a firsthand experience with tomato juice and Summer’s Eve. But Flower’s aroma prevailed and Gunner was relegated to his kennel for the remainder of his visit to Arkansas. Poor Gunner.