Calm before the storm

We sit outside drinking tall, seemingly endless glasses of sweet sweet tea. All of Aunt Judy's lawn furniture has been put into one of the many "sheds" on their farm. One hundred and forty acres of heavily wooded Mississippi countryside. Uncle Terry is a truck driver. Usually hauls hazardous chemicals up past the Mason Dixon Line. Aunt Judy recently became a realtor, after her youngest (Logan) went off to college. Maybe two years ago they built a new (all brick) house and we're hoping it will fend off Katrina.

Meg keeps yelling, "Swing me high, Daddy! Swing me HIGH!" She says it to me, because she knows Cindy will barely push her on the old rope swing. Cindy somehow imagines that too much extra ummph will result in Baby Bear flipping over backwards and somehow cracking open her skull, even though the swing barely skims above the ground most of the time and it hovers over a couple of inches of thick country grass.

And if my Herculean efforts to dislodge Meg aren't enough to stop Cindy's heart, she has to physically walk inside the house whenever Uncle Terry fires up the Four Wheeler and takes Liam for a spin through the fields. Then, "all the boys" as Liam calls us, pile into a thirty year old pickup truck and tour the unmarked "edges"of the family property. Including the creek (pronounced "crick,") the deer stands, and "the dumps" which are home to the gargage that "the city folk" won't collect each week.

For Liam it is one long party. Meanwhile, Katrina is pegging 175MPH.