Having spent the day before in the company of ladies, it seemed only right to share time yesterday with males. No wonder they call Harley-Davidsons "rolling thunder." Down in the barn, I could track that deep, throaty roar of the bikes from more than a mile away when Dave and his friend Anthony rode up in the morning. Not just a social call, the guys had come up to haul the last load of cut rounds from down in the woods up to the house. I had asked Dave what he'd like for lunch and the answer was, "Fried-egg sammies, of course!" Once a tradition, always a tradition, it seems. I got my giggle for the day when Dave (6'4-5") squeezed himself behind the wheel of my truck (I'm 5'6") to drive down through the pasture to the trees. With the seat finally moved back so his knees weren't up around his ears, the guys got the job done in no time. My kitchen is set up so that guests can keep me company while I cook, and we told stories and jokes and laughed until the sandwiches were gone and it was time for them to leave.
Some days are good, some are great, and I've had two in a row that were perfect.