This is my youngest punk.  He is ready to head out on this fine Labor Day evening to hunt for dove with Ol’ Blue Eyes and his Papa (my Dad).  (Normally his brother would have gone, but he was tied up doing something else that I will blog about soon.)  The evening was absolutely beautiful.  Check out this photo Ol’ Blue Eyes took with his iPhone.
This awesome evening was interrupted by a slithering critter with fangs that are very scary and poisonous.  I may have said that Weeds Very High was the bane of my existence, but I think rattlesnakes now top that by far. (I’m a woman, I change my mind… that’s what we do.)  This is my worst fear when my punks and Ol’ Blue Eyes go hunting.  (I could show you a picture of what remains of the snake, but I don’t want to give you nightmares.)  I pray really hard when they walk out the door with shotguns, ammo and decked out in camo.  It sends my heart into a panic attack to get a text from Ol’ Blue Eyes with a photo of the blown to smithereens rattlesnake with a comment that says “Close Call.”  As much as all this panic completely freaks me out, makes me want to take more than one Zyrtec, makes me break out in hives, leaves me wringing my hands with worry,  I let them walk back out the door evening after evening to go back for more because of this.
This is my yougest punk with my dad.  This is a legacy in the making, and no matter how scary it is to me, I could never take this from my punks. 
So I’ll send them back out the door with their rattlesnake gators and cowboy boots and lots of prayers of protection time and time again for this legacy.  Who knows, maybe one day they will leave a legacy like this for their grandkids.  All I know is that I’m grateful, this day, this moment, this place.

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