It
was like Christmas in the kitchen. Everett was at the sink, washing his dishes,
when I came through the door. He pulled his hands out of the water and dried
them so he could show me everything Gord had brought.
There
were root beer Twizzlers. There were grape-flavoured Twizzlers. There was a
tabasco chocolate bar. There was candy on a stick for Emil. There were sausage
sticks. The list goes on. The fridge was full to bursting. There was a pile of
food on the counter. The cupboard had a new lining of Kraft Dinner boxes.
But
the big favourite was the tardis cookie jar (à la Doctor Who) that, when you lift the lid, plays
the tardis time-travel music.
An even bigger surprise was that inside it were cookies that appear to have
been made using Everett's sacred (not "secret") recipe! So finally
they are available to the public. I didn't believe it at first—sure he'd made
them—but Everett made a point of showing me the disposable packaging they came
in.
Had I gone to town yesterday to wash Little Green (sunny day, perfect for getting the inch of dry mud off your car before winter), I'd've stopped over there and got a picture of the cookie jar. But the day flew by, as they do, and I went nowhere except for a walk.
There was machinery running in the field along the road to the south, and to the north. I don't like the noise so I headed straight across the road into the old homestead quarter.
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This coyote didn't hear me or my dogs because of the loud tractor across the road, and was intent on hunting for rodents around the bales. When I had done watching it, I started walking. Then it lifted its head, eyed me for a minute, and all too soon turned and ran away.
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