GEESE
I Went home to Idaho and found the air crisp with autumn wind and the sun a little lower on the horizon. The Canadian geese in the field had begun their migratory run south and seemed to be content not to fly, but to sit all day long in Taylor's field behind my parents home. Their long necks and frequent honking made them like a lady's bridge club chatting merrily to each other while dining on their h'oderves. The grain must have still been plentiful in Taylor's field. As to the conversation of the geese, or honking, your guess is as good as mine The delightful weather caused Dani, Syd and I to venture a walk down to the Snake River. We followed the drain-ditch that runs parallel to my parents house. As we were walking, Dani asked, "I wonder if it would be faster if we just grabbed a boat and floated down the drain-ditch to the river?" "I'm sure it would be," I countered, "but just don't let Grandma DeAnn know you are in the ditch or...