"The force that drives the green fuse through the flower...", has driven. The dark green trees and bushes stand quietly with expectation, bearing nuts and berries. The end of summer can be sensed this morning.
I spot "Popcorn" (so named by Martin) flying up from the ground into a tree. He is perhaps a red tailed hawk, a red shouldered hawk, or a broad winged hawk. He or she lives here by the trail, has a speckled breast.
I can smell the bacon frying at Ricky's Drive In.
We pass two women with a Blue Tic Hound who gets very excited and hoots his low toned howl at Boofa. Papa Welsh raised hounds, cooked for them in big pots and always named his favorite one "Rip".. My mother told the story of Papa Welsh driving his car along the country road in the darkness of early dawn listening to the men and dogs on a hunt in the woods, when he fell asleep and was hit by another car coming up behind him. He was unhurt.
John Quigley (Katherine Quigley's father) was a veternarian in Roscommon County, Ireland whose wfie died in childbirth. He kept his sons and sent his two daughters, Jenny and Katherine to his sister in New Jersey. Katherine was twelve years old and Jenny fourteen. As punishment, their aunt would make them wear their dresses inside out to school. Soon Katherine was working as a nanny to a Jewish family in Philadelphia. When taking the children to the park, she met my grandfather who asked her employer for her hand in marriage. She was only fourteen. She loved dogs and always had a black scottie.
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