out the back door I looked, coffee in hand, frost in the mullberry holler. why not, no wind and

and the dogs are fat from the summer of laying arround the pen, I know they think of the hunt

as I do. Cast the hounds, listen for juniors first strike, two minutes and jonh henry puts in with him. it's on. think I will sit in the porch swing and listen to the race.

a good time to think about nothing. already they are on the hill side,through the honeysuckle

that will be tough always is.

just two dog today, 4 pups in the pen waiting on there day in the thickets.fall is tough on fat men and dogs.

peace man.