Sunday morning drive ...
BLESSINGS times three:
It’s Thursday morning and dawn is breaking across the Smith Estate. It is a quiet time. The blonde’s head, still lovely after all these years, is buried a good foot in her pillow. There is never a quiver when I leave the wedded bed and head down the hall to the kitchen.
With a cup of coffee in hand, I sit and look at the three roses of fall struggling for life in a small vase on the breakfast table. They are slowly fading, but I still say a quiet thanks all the roses in my life.
And for the roses that have faded away ...
From there, it’s a short way down the hall to a front bedroom and a window that looks toward a climbing rose at the end of the house. It is a bit of a wonderment to me that the climbing rose also has just three roses. In the middle days of November, like the ones in the kitchen, they are struggling, too.
My thought is there must be some sort of message in three roses in a vase on the kitchen table and three roses on the climbing vine at the end of the house. It occurs to me that sometimes blessings come in threes.
But come spring, the blessings of the roses will be without number.
And how’s that for a Sunday morning sermon from a non-preacher?
“He who hesitates is not only lost, but miles from the next exit.”
“Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how popular living remains?”
MORE BLESSINGS: It is Wednesday morning, Nov. 8. Returning from the street with the morning paper, I notice a small paper sack in a chair at the kitchen door.
I open the sack and, like a bird dog on point, I’m in a chill that has nothing to do with the November morning. In the sack are four lovely red tomatoes. And there’s a note from Joe Hays, the good guy over the hill who has kept me in Alabama tomatoes for years.
A nice note says enjoy.
I take the tomatoes inside, get my car keys, and head for Winn-Dixie for a pound of Smithfield bacon.
Back home ... I DO enjoy.
Think about it, Alabama tomatoes from over the hill in November. Never happened before, but I that night I do dream of next November ...
I MAY have mentioned before that I have a great-granddaughter by the name of Ellison Kate Smith, but not this morning. And since she’s past her third year, an update, whether you want it or not.
For one thing, Ellie is now known in our family as “The Drama Queen.”
She’s always on stage, knows she’s on stage, and a good bet is she will become a big Hollywood star.
For another thing, Ellie has already learned the only three things a real “looker” needs to know:
1 — She has learned to flirt.
2 — She has learned to say “NO!”
3 — She has learned to pout.
Number three drives grandson Tyler up the wall. Thing is, she’s only three and when I mention all the years ahead in his life with the “Drama Queen,” that drives him nuts, too.
Oh yeah, I heard that. You’re hoping I move to North Dakota where you won’t have to hear about Ellie and Mackenzie and Everlee (my other great-granddaughters) growing up.
Sorry, I can’t afford the gas.
THE LATE HORACE DICK, former principal at Lineville High School, is a man after my own heart.
One of his rules:
“If you’re on time, you’re 15 minutes late. If you’re 15 minutes early, you’re on time.”
I like that. People who are always late really tick me off. Ask the blonde ...