Monthly Archives: November 2011

When I push open the glass-paned door to the soda fountain, a hanging bell tinkles a discreet invitation to stay awhile. It jingles again as the door clicks shut, leaving the billowing skiffs of dust that were accompanying me to blow on down the sidewalk in the searing dry breeze.

It’s as if I’ve stepped onto a movie set of 1950s small town America. But this is my town and it’s the 21st century. Inside the long, narrow shop it’s warm enough to inspire thoughts of thirst, but cool enough to be calmed by dust motes slowly rising and falling in front of the smudged street window. A wood bench, thoughtfully positioned with its back to the glare, is empty of visitors. From somewhere I can’t place, a radio turned down low twangs out country tunes. Outside, the sputtering rumble of diesel pickups slowly cruising Main Street on this sultry summer day, recedes. (more…)

Even though I’ve lived on this ranch for 12 years, I am still surprised nearly daily by what I see.  Today it was the arrival of a late hawk.  He’d clearly been casing the joint, because he perched on a tree right next to the house, overlooking the area where chipmunks have been scurrying about for months, stuffing their cheeks with seeds and rushing off to bury them somewhere safe for the winter.  If ever there were an easy place to catch oneself a nice, juicy rodent snack, the front of our house is it.

Go south, young hawk!