The Atlantic Ocean was becoming rough as our convoy got underway in 1943, hoping to evade German U-boats, while heading to Europe. With subs prowling we wondered if we would complete the crossing. It was scary times.

The announcement of a developing drought in Georgia is scary. In my 90 years I have survived some arid times. I remember in the 30’s my grandpa putting wooden whiskey barrels under each V slope on the roof. That provided rainwater for the cattle and the vegetable garden. 

You think of newspapers, glass, bricks, metal and plastic containers. Trucks haul away tons of useless items from businesses and homes.

Highway repair crews have started scraping the surface material off of roadways and recycling it into replacement surfaces and not having to use as much new material, providing huge savings.

Two deer were crossing a section of an open field behind our house. There is a small valley a few hundred feet away where deer hang out and bed down at night.

With summer almost here I had begun to sense the need for revitalization to erase the moodiness that was occurring too often; to evade current reality that depresses my spirit; spend some time in the wilderness, meditating on my  life.   

He was a hard worker, rugged outdoorsman, hunter, angler, golfer, 11 years younger than me, a cousin.  I gave him a bicycle and a 22 Marlin rifle when I enlisted in the navy in 1943 at age 17.