Messing Around

Sunday was a gorgeous day, 62 degrees and the fish were biting. The last two days have been cold, windy and rainy.  Needless to say I didn’t go fishing, instead I stayed home, read some blogs and got inspired to work on photo manipulation….I tinkered around with the background…This is what I came up with.0381 - Copy (640x427)

Weekly Photo Challenge-Home

“Home is where your heart is”, was my wife’s favorite phrase when fussing at me for spending so much time at the golf course, but of course she was wrong. If that were true I’d be living on one of the many golf courses around here. OOPS, I forgot, I can’t afford to live on one of the golf courses around here.  When I think of home I think of warmth, laughter, children, grandchildren, wife, brothers and sisters. So where we gather as a family, be it two or all of us, that is home. I’ve decided to share a photo of an old abandoned homestead and let the viewer’s imagination decide what kind of home this was.


Beaver Hut

Went to the upper swamp area looking to see how the duck population was doing and came across this beaver hut. This is the first hut that I have seen on the property, but then again I haven’t been here or the lower swamp for two years. I can see where beaver have made their home in the pond by digging out tunnels in the bank.  I have posted before about some of the damage they do, but for now it is nothing so serious that something has to be done about them.2013_02_08_0175

J A Brooks-My Grandpa

grandpa brooks getting ready to kill a pigThis is one of my all time favorite photographs. My grandpa is preparing to butcher a hog and boiling water is part of the process. The scalding water is used to remove the fine hair of a hog. The pigs not only provided food for grandpa and his family in the way of ham, sausage and alike,  the ones that sold at market provided money in the cookie jar to be used for other things.

Going to town with Grandpa was a great adventure for an eight year old boy. Grandpa would hook up his two big red mules to the wagon and off we would go headed to Six Mile. Usually there would be something in the wagon for Grandpa to sell or trade for cash or dry-goods…never went empty-handed and never came home empty-handed. The “empty-handed” part may not be exactly true, I really don’t know, but that is the way I remembered it that summer…