the necklace

I’m linking up with Amber, another Alabama girl – who now lives in Arkansas. Her writing voice is creamy and sweetly salted like grits, fresh boiled and buttered. Grits are my go to when I am cold or cringing about something…likewise, Amber’s words always warm to me life and living.

I have a jewelry box whose cavity is crammed with necklaces: heavy gold numbers, I never now wear and should probably hock, slender silver chains which once held this or that identifying icon. There are presents from children, symbols of lush love, and Nana’s pearls which my Dada purchased for her in Japan; they in every way represent security to me. I wear nearly none of them, without a specific reminder..and those too have quieted, as my girls have found fashion.

I have just one necklace which I nearly always wear.  My choice of it is really about the fact that he, who bought it for me, got me right; he understood my essence. I am no demanding gal. The snobby girl I once was has thankfully been slain.  I climb under tables and on desks to make connections in my computer lab/classroom now, not up social or corporate ladders.

One side of the necklace is gold, the other silver. It’s one of those slide deals. He added several stones: real, not fabricated. The stones are commoners, a particular people’s treasure: agate, turquoise, moon rock or onyx. It is solid and substantial, earthy and unpretentious, but beautiful. It holds up well as I wind between crowded chairs telling a people’s story or woo would be sojourners over obstacles of our world’s worry, too engrossed in our journey to protect my person or possession.

I love it as it speaks of what I hold dear, and what kind of treasures I see. He done good.

the lucky one

catch of the creek

We went up to the huntin’ property this break to spend the night and check it all out. The girls and I, save Molly, the huntress, had not been before. Normally, the hunters go at 3:00 a.m. to sit in the cold, and watch for deer. Can you see why I might have excused myself from such?  So, since we had some warm weather and we were out of school, we took our first taste of the club. And can I say, “It was pretty dang delicious!” Bathrooms and showers and a kitchen about like mine and heaters of all varieties and a big family style eating area that seats about 25. There were bunk houses as well as the ritzier clubhouse, which of course the girls and I preferred and convinced the others to stay in as well.

The accomodations were exceptional for such and the land was beautiful with both foothills and some ridge and valley sections. And right below the clubhouse, only maybe 1/4 of a mile away, ran the creek. I was thinking 10 feet across, you know, splash your way down it and build a dam across it, creek. But, let me tell you, it was what we around here call a river and about the same size as our river, the Cahaba.  It was rock lined and deep with some clearly over your head pools and really sweet runs of rapids spaced every 500 yards or so.

Now, I do like to fish. You could say I might have gone on the bass circuit had it not been for the birth of all these younguns. So, I tied lines and scouted cleared out spots along the bank and we fished. Or they fished and I re-tied lots of lines and scouted some more. And even though it was still chilly in the water, we caught red-eye bass and spotted bass and catfish and something that made even my entirely spoiled sportsman son, (do not even ask how many kinds of hunting/fishing trips he has made,) get excited. Molly, the huntress, right away had her line broken by what Trent, who was trying to help her haul in with 5lb test, saw and deemed a huge fish. Trent saw the spread of the fish. Wide and unusual in shape. He, my budding biologist, of course, began to inform us of what it just might have been. He listed lots of candidates and then settled on drum. “It was probably a drum, Mom,” he offered a little out of breath, he had never caught a drum. Well, no one lost any time getting their lines back in to try to lure this monster to another nightcrawler snack.

Not long later, up came this beauty, well, it’s not so beautiful to look at, but its newness certainly gained it some champions. Drum, indeed. It looks much like a redfish in shape, its nose is turned toward the bottom to better feed there. But it grows large and lengthy and is great fun to catch.
So, our little foray gave us a great gift. We had a story, about catching drum for the first time ever. And doesn’t a story make an adventure?

Here’s to a few more  later in the week. The weather looks good and I promised them a trip down the “creek” in the canoes.

Sound fun? Come on down and we’ll take you, too.