Sunday, October 17, 2010

A Slow Slice of Life

The day dawned as beautiful as any autumn day could be. I know this because we were up and at 'em before sunrise. We were going to Kefauver Park to participate in the Buzz Fest with Jack and the book that we built. Driving down the mountain, my niece couldn't help but repeatedly exclaim what gorgeous views met her sight no matter which way she turned.

It was a might chilly lakeside in the park at that hour, but we had brought enough layers of clothing to survive an arctic blizzard. Any further fear of freezing was addressed by a church group handing out free hot cocoa, which fixed us right up. I'm pretty sure Jesus would have approved of their methods of spreading their beliefs; each cup of cocoa came with a printed Bible verse. It wasn't turning wine into water, but it was what we wanted at the time.

Jack amused himself marveling at an early-morning jogger running laps around the lake, but lost count of how many times she went around. I pointed out to him the many miles he walks while exploring his surroundings, to which he replied that he walks; he can't do it trotting. I don't know what thrilled him more, the fact that this was a woman with such determination, or the energy she was expending on trotting instead of walking.

When the sun was high in the sky, the breeze was still cool enough coming off the lake that nothing felt better than to sit with the sun on our faces. I was as cozy as a cat on a sunny window sill watching the people of Monroe County walk by. Thank The Almighty, Jack has become quite a salesman; otherwise, I don't think we'd have sold any books at all.

We had to cut our attendance at the fest short because we had other duties to perform that evening. My niece was scheduled to judge Deborah and Charlie's chili cook-off. And what a wonderful night we had around the campfire at their Coker Creek Saloon. I felt like a Girl Scout again, except that there were men with us at the campfire, and we were missing the endless choruses of Kumbaya. But Don did play a bit of music as Adam went around handing out hugs.

We also cut this event a bit short because my niece needed to get back to our house in the holler to "tuck" her "baby" into bed with a goodnight call -- one of the small inconveniences of living so far back in the forest that there's no cell phone signal. I was happy to cuddle up under many layers of cover with the book that was on my nightstand, a hand-me-down read from my niece. Of course, with her Kindle these gifts may be coming to an end.

We sure are slow in our slice of Coker Creek; we still read books and have to be home to call across the country. Imagine that!