The air feels wet. Air you can wear. The temperature will not fall much and will return to its former glory in the morning. No thoughts of snow this evening. This is an evening for sitting on the porch and swapping stories, drinking lemonade, and fanning with the funeral home fan. In my halcyon days, everyone had a funeral home fan. Not many had air conditioners. When a business had air conditioning, they advertised the rare cool fact on their sign. A big smiling snow figure blowing cold air from his mouth. Most of us depended on our funeral home fans. In those innocent times, we never really got away from the outdoors. All the windows in the house were open the doors were open as we had screen doors in rural America. We were a community living in each other’s lives night and day. We heard the TVs and often followed the television show our neighbor was watching. There was the occasional argument as tempers flared in the heat. There was reconciliation. Interesting in our sanitized General Audience world.

The frogs are practicing the scales. The evening performance of the Bullfrog Quartet is soon. Seven geese are in the yard near the Brooks Pond. They have that summer air about them, languid and peaceful. They do not have a care in the world, although one stands sentry post. He has a stance of determination. He does not move while his friends graze. Another goose walked toward the Sentry rapidly and spread his wings. The sentry got the idea and moved forward. I think they may have second billing for the nightly Brooks Pond Concert.

We spoke of fame and fortune in the 1960s. We did not know any rich folks, but thought it must be nice. If we had discretionary money, we might have a Coca-Cola. Santa Claus liked Coke as there were pictures of him drinking one around Christmas. The Vietnam War was terrible. Cousin Billy was drafted, as was Danny Dorris, cousin Brenda’s husband.

The white cat chases the Great White Heron. The Herron flies a few feet away, and the contest continues.

The Bullfrog Quartet is ready. In the audience are folks from the 1960s. They have joined the Old Man at Brooks Pond for a Saturday concert.