Tom T. Hall’s song – “I Love…” gets to me; always has. What a gifted songwriter that man is.
In his song he mentions loving things like “little baby ducks, old pickup trucks, slow moving trains, and rain”. In another verse, he loves “little country streams, sleep without dreams, Sunday school in May, and hay”.
His arrangement got me to thinking. I’m a blessed man because there are lots of things I have come to love over the span of my life although I can’t put it to rhyme like Tom T. does.
Things like – sitting on the back porch nursing a cup of coffee before sunup on a July morning while it’s cool and still. My routine as I sit and ponder is to read my Bible for awhile, thanking God for a good night’s sleep and checking out His plans for me for the day, all the while keeping one eye on the bird feeder watching birds and squirrels forage for breakfast. Hall and I are on the same page; in his song, he likes “birds of the world and squirrels”.
Things like – greeting my wife with a hug and kiss as she rubs sleep from her eyes before she gets dressed for the day. She is especially beautiful to me then.
Things like – standing in reverential awe at the end of the driveway while picking up the morning paper observing the first rays of sun backlit behind a puffy cloud creating a kaleidoscope in the eastern sky; gentle pinks, magenta, soft peach; a moment to stand amazed in His presence.
Things like – having a four year old granddaughter crawl in my lap, look up smiling at me and saying “you’re my best buddy”.
Things like – walking in the house after church to the aroma of a roast simmering in the slow cooker.
Things like – keeping an eye on the calendar that reads March and knowing that somewhere out there, an old turkey gobbler is waking up, stretching his warty neck out and emitting a gravely, grating sound that only a turkey hen or a turkey hunter can love.
Things like – standing on a hill as dawn breaks listening for that old tom turkey to gobble, revealing his location and when he does, I sneak to within 100 yards of so of his roost. At the right time, I call softly to the gobbler hoping that when he flies down, he’ll come check me out. Usually, he goes the other way but when things work out as I hope and he struts into my line of sight, it’s a thrill few other outdoors experiences can rival.
Things like – slipping silently into the chill of an October morning to sit on a log in my woods, watching the first squirrel of the season move from a den in an oak to acorns at the end of a leafy branch.
Things like – from a comfortable seat in my box stand in late November, I’m knowing that the doe I’m watching that suddenly bolts is likely telling me a mature buck with an eye on her could step out at any moment.
Things like – sitting in the shade of a big oak at the edge of my favorite pond, keeping an eye on the bobber, watching it shudder and slowly slip beneath the surface. I’m feeling the determined tug of another bluegill that within an hour or so will be converted into a crispy French fried lunch for my wife and me.
Things like – picking my guitar with a group of friends each week. Tom T. Hall loves “music when it’s good”. So do I.
Glynn Harris Outdoor column is sponsored by D.C. Pawn in Minden
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