Now that the gels’ softball season has started, on several days of the week I have to head in to the office early in order to be able to get out in time for practices, games and whatnot.  What with daylight savings and all, my commute is in the pre-dawn, when the sky in the east is just starting to change color from black to dismal gray.

It’s a dank, dead thing, the fag-end of the night, and not an especially pleasant time to be oot and aboot.  On the other hand, it always brings about fond memories of my yoot, when I was dragged out of bed well before sun-up to go hunting or fishing with the Old Gentleman.  By the time the trees and buildings were just beginning to show in sillouette against the sky, we would already be well on our way to the deer stand, the duck blind or the first marker toward the bay where we fished.

It’s been, oh, well over twenty five years since I did anything like that.  Nonetheless, in my still half-asleep condition on my commute, especially when I smell cigarette smoke (the old boy smoked like a chimney back then), I sometimes almost fancy that I’m heading off on another one of these expeditions and not just to my desk.

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