Father's Day

I am married to the most beautiful women on Earth.

She bought me a weed whacker for Father's day, drove me to a High School graduate's open house, made me sloppy Joe's for dinner (of course!), did not mind when I mowed the lawn and drank a few beers, let me off the hook on watching the sappy movie that evening.

Then, on Monday she was game for loading up the van and driving/riding 4 hours to Frankfort, Michigan to watch the Eaton Rapids women's basketball team play in a tournament....and then drive/ride home. Those kinds of spontaneous trips were something that was impossible before I retired.  Third shift is incredibly difficult to get "coverage" for and the shift that starts at 9:30PM on Father's day is triply difficult to cover.

Many pretty girls at that basketball tournament.  On a couple of occasions an extremely pretty girl would sit in the bleachers in front of us.  And in a few minutes their mother would show up.  It was as if I had access to a time machine that showed me what that pretty, leggy, perfectly made-up girl was going to look like in exactly 30 years.

The difference between those pretty girls and my beautiful wife can be summed up with two words, "Shelf Life"

All girls are pretty when young

Beautiful women have shelf life

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One of my runs takes me past a swamp.  There is something about swamps that invites people to dump trash:  Concrete.  Fencing.  Couches.  Containers that held ag chemicals.  Deer carcasses.

Sometimes the swamp is dry.  This year it is wet.

On the edge of the swamp, near the road is an iris.  Just one clump sitting in about 8 inches of water.  Hanging on by catching a few stray shafts of sunlight that flit through the over story of silver maple.  Three small blossoms.  An investment in hope.  Hope that an itinerant bee will wander by and brush some pollen on them and carry the story of life one page farther.

Beauty and hope under conditions of adversity.