I finally had to pull out the waterline and drain the cabin. This time of year, I stay in tune with the ten-day forecast. My belief that I could make it to November with hot indoor showers was shattered when I saw the trend toward below-freezing morning temperatures. My limit on downside trends is twenty-five…
Author: Tim Cotton
I’m Doing Fine Now—without you, Baby
You can imagine how music impacts me as an old (and former) radio guy. I have some friends who need no music; they don’t desire to take a drive or give themselves time to stop and take pictures of the clouds when they align themselves in unique ways. That sums up why solo road trips…
Autumn Conversations
The sojourn to camp was a last-minute decision. My whole intention was to yard a couple of logs out of the woods for a camp neighbor, but I determined there was not enough weight on the back of the tractor to avoid the teeter-totter effect, so I’ll tackle that task in the next couple of…
Route Nine Reunion
We loaded up the truck, intending to make no stops along the way—camp-bound we were. The Significant One had an autumn fixation, freaking out photographically speaking while watching for various and varying colors, capturing the same in the memory bank of an iPhone while hanging out the window at times, much to my chagrin. I…
Camp—Day Three
Success is a word that is personally defined. If my supposition is correct, yesterday, I met the criteria. I rose, but the shining took a concerted effort—two cups, full. The chores were standard; none were completed at a record pace. Several stacks of shingles left over from the roofing job had to be stored away…
Son of a Preacher Man
Being the son of a preacher man tops my list of things to be proud of. In my sixty years on Earth, my experience with organized and unorganized worship differs from that in televised megachurches, big-money donors, and twenty-thousand-seat auditoriums. It’s all foreign to me, and I keep it that way by choice. I spent…
I’ll Always Be Andy
“What others think of us only matters if it’s more positive than we believe ourselves to be.” TC-2024 I’d never of heard him, but I was Andy Etchebarren for a while. I was seven or eight, and Andy Etchebarren never heard of me either. No one in the major leagues knew who I was—at least,…
“72 and 42—Musings for a Saturday Morning”
Contemplative and reflective, I let my mind slip into neutral even though the motorized conveyance’s gear selector was in the drive position. I was driving in a cocktail of weather perfection, stirred, not shaken—but just my soul, which incidentally had a BAC of .000, not counting the possibility that my breakfast orange juice was teetering…
I Can’t See Them, But I Can Hear Them Walking
My ant stopped by with friends. She’s a pest. Before you get all worked up over the spelling of ant, go back to memorizing your Chicago Manual of Style—I have no aunts in the area. It’s been a summer for ants on the Jagged Edge, and it was dry for a spell. I thought I…
Late Summer
As the summer wanes, the camps nearby are empty from the giggles, music, and loud, late-night UNO games. Chainsaws are silent until cooler weather, but the bass along the shore chime in with a splash now and then. Chirping crickets overpower the buzz of mosquitoes, and the crows become more brazen in their hollering from…