Here a few picture of the group that I hunt with getting ready to head on out.  And one of the terrain at one location.  They have lots to choose from.  Also a couple of those who miss a deer wearing the Pumpkin hat.  No explanation needed.  LOL  Click Pictures To Enlarge.

Here is a Poem sent to me and I have to say it is one of the best I have seen.  Enjoy it as I have, as it is relating to the old Clothes Line of years past.

And now The POEM …

 

A clothesline was a news forecast, To neighbors passing by,

There were no secrets you could keep, When clothes were hung to dry.

It also was a friendly link, For neighbors always knew

If company had stopped on by, To spend a night or two.

For then you'd see the "fancy sheets", And towels upon the line;

You'd see the "company table cloths", With intricate designs.

The line announced a baby's birth, From folks who lived inside,

As brand new infant clothes were hung, So carefully with pride!

The ages of the children could, So readily be known

By watching how the sizes changed, You'd know how much they'd grown!

It also told when illness struck, As extra sheets were hung;

Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe too, Haphazardly were strung.

It also said, "On vacation now", When lines hung limp and bare.

It told, "We're back!" when full lines sagged, With not an inch to spare!

New folks in town were scorned upon, If wash was dingy and gray,

As neighbors carefully raised their brows, And looked the other way.

But clotheslines now are of the past, For dryers make work much less.

Now what goes on inside a home, Is any-body's guess!

I really miss that way of life, It was a friendly sign

When neighbors knew each other best... By what hung out on that line.

A Friend sent me this morning and thought I would share. Nothing like a smile on ones face to start the day.  But in reality, thinking about this bit of humor, over the years, I have found a lot of truth in what was happening to the poor feller. Read on.

Kevin had shingles.

Several days ago as I left a meeting at a hotel; I desperately gave myself a personal TSA pat down.

I was looking for my keys.  They were not in my pockets.  A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing.

Suddenly I realized I must have left them in the car.  Frantically, I headed for the parking lot.

My wife has scolded me many times for leaving the keys in the ignition.

My theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them.

Her theory is that the car will be stolen.  As I burst through the door, I came to a terrifying conclusion.

Her theory was right.  The parking lot was empty.

I immediately called the police.  I gave them my location, confessed that I had left my keys in the car, and that it had been stolen.

Then I made the most difficult call of all, “Honey,” I stammered; I always call her “honey” in times like these.

“I left my keys in the car, and it has been stolen.”

There was a period of silence.  I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard her voice.

“Idiot”, she barked, “I dropped you off!”

Now it was my turn to be silent.  Embarrassed, I said, “Well, come and get me.”

She retorted, “I will, as soon as I convince this policeman I have not stolen your car.”