Saturday Sharing. #17 Stories From My Past.

Good morning everyone! It is a lovely spring morning here. The sun is shining, it is actually above freezing to begin the day and there is that wonderful chorus of birds singing in the trees. What an amazing variety too! But they all blended together in a beautiful symphony of song. It was nice to sit out there for a while and enjoy all of this beauty, before coming in to have my breakfast. Even the chipmunks were out early this morning.

Speaking of stories. One time dad and I were out at our cottage doing some work on the inside, and that included painting. At one point he bent over to pick up a paint can, but I beat him to it. I needed to fill up my tray. Dad was too far over with his bending and fell to his hands and knees. I was just in motion of tipping that can of paint and dad’s head was right over my paint tray.

Baxter the Blue Jay stopping by for some breakfast.

Ever have that problem where you are in motion doing something and you just cannot stop in time? Well, that is what happened. The way dad was jumping around screaming one would think I dumped the whole can of paint on his head. Really, it was just a small “splop”. “There is paint all over my hair!” exclaimed dad. “Good thing you do not have much hair,” I said and began laughing, loud and long.

“Bonehead!” he said, “help me wash it off.” We went outside and dad bent over while I dumped a bucket of water on his head. He yelled again. “That water is like ice!” he yelled. “Naturally, I just got it from the well,” I said, “that water is cold.” “Now I will have a headache,” he complained. “But at least your head is not white anymore,” I said. “Ha, ha,” he said sarcastically. I began laughing again.

Male Evening Grosbeak at the feeder.

We went back to painting. After a while he asked me to hand him the can of paint. He was up the ladder at the time. He had his hand reaching down so I lifted the can of paint nice and high for him. He screamed again. “My hand!” he yelled, “it is covered with paint!” “That is quite obvious,” I said, “why did you put your hand in the paint?” “Bonehead!” he said, “you pushed it onto my hand.”

“You should have been watching,” I said. “You should be at home,” he said. “We would get more done if you would quit stopping to clean yourself all the time,” I suggested. “Time for coffee,” was his answer. I was in favor of that too. We sat at the picnic table outside. We had fixed it so there was no more wobbling. Dad had a bucket of water beside him to wash his hand. “Slide my sandwich over to me,” he said. I did so.

Female Evening Grosbeak at the platform feeder.

Unfortunately he did not catch it in time and it slid off into the bucket of water. Dad quickly grabbed it but knocked the water down and it splashed all over his feet. He groaned. But he did save his sandwich. “I hate wet feet,” said dad. “Yep, gives that sloshy feeling,” I said. I knew what dad was thinking. He went and got another bucket of water. “Just in case we need it again,” he said.

On his way back to the table with the water, he stumbled on a tree root. I jumped to keep him from falling but in the process the bucket of water sloshed all over him. “I am soaked!” he exclaimed. “This is not your day,” I said and started to laugh again. Loud and long. “Good thing we bring extra clothes with us,” I said. We had learned from other adventures. “I forgot to bring any today,” he said sighing.

That got me laughing again. Loud and long. Poor dad. He was always so accident prone. Every time we did something together he would get wet, or hurt himself, or tear his clothes. So many different things happened. So amazing. Now things happen to me. So amazing. Sorry, no pics of this adventure, so I am showing some other pics instead. Well, I hope you have a wonderful Saturday and God bless!

Steve and Muffin.

©2023 Steve McLeod.