Where's your happy place?

I just got back from my happy place, floating on my bass boat with rubber worms and a half dozen shiners. Would be a little happier had I caught anything but it's so peaceful on the lake it's an awesome way to relax.
 
Feralmerril is right; it DOES keep changing as you get older. Here lately, the porcelain throne is a pretty happy place for me; it seems like just yesterday that I was perfectly content to blast down the highway in a hot car listening to Van Halen.
 
As one an "old fart" I shouldn't say this:

Behind the wheel of my '65 stingray with top off, listening to the tires and engine howl; just driving with no place to go just enjoying the ride. IMHO this is the meaning of freedom.
 
I forgot the throne. It definetly is a place I always am happy to get to. In fact, I have to plan my trips, meals and distance in between daily. That is what I mean by the rules change the older you get!
 
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Going down the road with that big twin rumbling. Very relaxing. So is birding along a marsh in fall when it's turned a little cooler and the transients are coming through. Winter along the Mississippi River watching the bald eagles hunt and preen in the sun.
 
My happy place is in the woods... really any woods... alone and awash in my own thoughts. I have the rich blessing of having my own woods, really the responsibility, as steward, to oversee them while in my possession. The ability to listen, to feel nature around me, to feel the sun on me, or a breeze in my face, to smell the changes in the seasons. To sense God's creation coming to life as the sun rises... or to listen to ever growing evening sounds as the sun sets. To see a great owl come flying silently through the deep woods in the dusk. To sit quietly and watch a coyote break cover right beside me... or hear the call of a Tom in the woods. To watch Mallards breaking in to land on the pond... or see the fish break the surface feeding on spring insects. To nest between the cover of two cedar trees along a deer trail and fall asleep... only to wake up by the sounds of does as they tiptoe by through the leaves... or the songs of the coyotes late in the evening in the spring. To watch the leaves turn in the autumn... walking along a trail in a gentle breeze when a tree drops its leaves all at once... the leaves cascading down all around like a gentle rain. The warmth of a camp fire on a crisp fall night... the smell of fresh coffee heating on the edge of the fire... the Milky Way shining on a clear dark night.... or a full moon on a cloudless night - casting moon shadows through the timber. I could go on and on... only in the woods, alone, solitary, am l fully in control of my senses... and only there can l feel what our forefathers felt... complete freedom.

"This is my Father's world,
And to my listening ears,
All nature sings and round me rings,
The music of the spheres."

Blessings,
Hog
 
...out checking my 11 trailcams in logging country. Over 100 thousand acreas of timber w/in walking distance of my front door.
 

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On the seat of my Harley Davidson Electra Glide. On a two lane road knowing where I came from but not knowing where I'm going. Many many times I have been there.
 
Happy places (in no particular order after #1)

1. Anywhere with my wife of 37 years (she just reached across and stroked my arm for no apparent reason)

2. Being with my son or daughter and taking pleasure in the people that they have become.

3. Laughing and teasing my seven year old granddaughter

4. Holding my 2 month old granddaughter and marveling at the miracle of life.

5. Ditto on number 4 with my 3 week old granddaughter (I know I'm being piggy)
 
My Happy Place is in the southern parts of Holland. Every thirth weekend of august they held a Westernweekend at a place called Horst. The local gunclub is called Davy Crockett. I visit that place from 1980. The weekend is visit by about 300 other people from Holland, Belgium, Germany and even a lost American is wondering around.

The weekend starts on thursday. I am always very early to set up my tent and welcome the others. Horst is at night not spoiled with a lot of surounding lights like a big city. So for me is it great under the stars at night with friends, a beer or a whiskey and a fire have a good time and talk with equal minds.

On day time we shoot with all kind of westernguns from the period of the trapper flintlock till cartridge firearms from the early neightienhundred.

Aldo it is static shooting on a paper target om a distance of 25 for handguns or 50 meter for rifles we have great pleasure in it.

On the range I am the taking care of the safety and run the match.

The friendship on those weekends are great. we let the stress of our normal life and job behind us and treassure the illusion of being in the "Old West" Ofcourse everyone is dressed in the period style.

I am looking very much foreward to the next event. I wouldend miss it.
 
Got a hideaway out in the sagebrush that in reality is a pistol and 300 yard plus range where the deer and the antelope play and the Bighorns are off on the horizon. Most of the time the only noise is the wind. Must have been what the whole state was like 150 years ago when Jim Bridger was here.

On more active days driving the Bighorns and its twisties is a fine place to be with the Spyder. There's one downhill hairpin turn that I keep trying to work up the right approach to; after about four years I think I've just about got it down.

I'm convinced that God shoots and likes fast cars.

Thanks, Lord.
 
Summer trips up to Wyoming and out of the heat of Arizona. Visiting with my folks, Prairie dog shooting with my brother, camping in the Bighorn Mountains, maybe catching the rodeo. I really appreciate the things I took for granted as a kid.
 
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