keith44spl
Member
I beat the rooster up by a good hour and a half this morning. Pitched a hand full of coffee on top
of the old ground and filled the pot with water and set ‘er on the stove to boil.
I was working on my third cup as the first false dawn was breakin’ over the tree line to the East.
An ol’ owl hooted somewhere down on the creek, cause’n a tom turkey to gobble a couple hundred yards away.
I left my comfortable perch on the veranda and made my way to the kitchen for to stir up a little breakfast.
You see, I’ve been bach’n for a while now, as my lovely bride of forty something years is tending to her aging mother and has left me in charge during the weekdays, more or less to my own devises…So, it’s no cream o' wheat or cold cereal nonsense for this boy. It’s fresh ground sausage or country ham with red eye gravy over cat head biscuits for this ol’ mule.
Left the dishes in the sink. Looked around for my tri-focal spectacles, needle and thread before headed back out on the porch.
And no, I haven’t taken up cross-stitchin’ or embroidering. Just putting the finishing touches on one of the slickest Buscadaro rigs to come down the pike in a long while. As I pulled the last stitch, I say’s to myself, “You know, it’d be a nice day to un-limber a revolver or two.”
Scratchin’ around in the ammo cache, found several boxes of factory .357s…nah, not what I’m lookin’ to shoot today. Peeked in the reloading stock and find some virgin 38 spl brass and some heavy cast bullets left over from the last century, plent of 2400 powder. Just the ticket. Wiped the cobwebs off reloading press and bench. Loaded up a couple of double hand fulls of cartridges. Rummage through glove box of pickup, find a varmint call, might get lucky.
Drive to back side of ol’ place, bluff over lookin' creek.
Den area for Wile E Coyote or some of his close kin.
Blow on call, get winded; give up…Hike back to truck. Break out Smith and Wesson revolvers and roll-my-own ammo.
Put up target at tree line, throw saddle blanket on bed of truck, fondle guns awhile, shoot for a spell, feel better.
Load up gear, drive back to headquarters.
Dark now as I write this. Burnin’ T-Bone on grill. Makin’ fresh pot of coffee and clean revolvers.
Got to hit the hay, got an early start tomorrow. More leather to bend…And there’s no tell what else I’ll get into.
Su Amigo,
Dave
of the old ground and filled the pot with water and set ‘er on the stove to boil.
I was working on my third cup as the first false dawn was breakin’ over the tree line to the East.
An ol’ owl hooted somewhere down on the creek, cause’n a tom turkey to gobble a couple hundred yards away.
I left my comfortable perch on the veranda and made my way to the kitchen for to stir up a little breakfast.
You see, I’ve been bach’n for a while now, as my lovely bride of forty something years is tending to her aging mother and has left me in charge during the weekdays, more or less to my own devises…So, it’s no cream o' wheat or cold cereal nonsense for this boy. It’s fresh ground sausage or country ham with red eye gravy over cat head biscuits for this ol’ mule.
Left the dishes in the sink. Looked around for my tri-focal spectacles, needle and thread before headed back out on the porch.
And no, I haven’t taken up cross-stitchin’ or embroidering. Just putting the finishing touches on one of the slickest Buscadaro rigs to come down the pike in a long while. As I pulled the last stitch, I say’s to myself, “You know, it’d be a nice day to un-limber a revolver or two.”
Scratchin’ around in the ammo cache, found several boxes of factory .357s…nah, not what I’m lookin’ to shoot today. Peeked in the reloading stock and find some virgin 38 spl brass and some heavy cast bullets left over from the last century, plent of 2400 powder. Just the ticket. Wiped the cobwebs off reloading press and bench. Loaded up a couple of double hand fulls of cartridges. Rummage through glove box of pickup, find a varmint call, might get lucky.
Drive to back side of ol’ place, bluff over lookin' creek.
Den area for Wile E Coyote or some of his close kin.
Blow on call, get winded; give up…Hike back to truck. Break out Smith and Wesson revolvers and roll-my-own ammo.
Put up target at tree line, throw saddle blanket on bed of truck, fondle guns awhile, shoot for a spell, feel better.
Load up gear, drive back to headquarters.
Dark now as I write this. Burnin’ T-Bone on grill. Makin’ fresh pot of coffee and clean revolvers.
Got to hit the hay, got an early start tomorrow. More leather to bend…And there’s no tell what else I’ll get into.
Su Amigo,
Dave
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