On The Fly

In this episode, Respect for the Hunt . . . As the first light of dawn softly painted the sky shades of orange, Ronnie (Ron) and Rodger, two brothers, left their houses. On his way out of town, Rodger stopped at Casey’s to get his morning drink while Ron grabbed a cup of coffee and quickly dictated a text. “I’ll meet you at the gate.” The arrival of deer hunting season stirred excitement in their hearts, filling them with a sense of purpose and connection to nature. “My deep freeze is getting low; we must bag a big one this year.” It's still dark in California. I’m checking the weather app (15 degrees) to see their weather this early morning, so I texted them. “Are you guys in the woods this morning? It looks pretty cold there.” Ron’s response, "Perfect weather, if the snots not flowing, I’m not going!"–Not exactly something you’d find in a Carl Sandburg poem. I chuckled, thinking . . . we have a comedian in the family. “Do you guys have snow?” “No, Snow.” Yes, I underst...

In this episode, Father’s Moonlit Walk . . . by: Patrick Ball The moonlit night, a silent scene, A tranquil hour, serene and keen. I sit alone, a cup held tight, Lost in the past, a fading light. November's chill–crisp, cold air, A gentle breeze, a solemn prayer. I think of Dad, a man of grace, A loving heart, and a smiling face. We’d wander the woods, a father's pride, A loyal hound, by our side— the forest's depths, a mystic sight, A starry sky, a beacon bright. Through fields of gold, we’d make our way, A rustic path, a golden ray. The hound would bay, a mournful sound, A treetop chase, on hallowed ground. A simple joy, a treasured sight, A father's love, a guiding light. A memory's warmth, a gentle hand, A timeless bond across the land. . . . Welcome back to On the Fly. This rambling was triggered by a fleeting thought while driving home from work the other night. The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean as we drove South on the 5 Freeway, just entering the ...