only to trip at the sound of goodbye

Sadness is hovering at Honeysuckle Faire because my dear, sweet Dad passed away. He was a bright, witty spark in our lives, never failing to make us bust out laughing at his antics. A friend gave me this photograph of him, above, which I will cherish forever because it is exactly like I remember him from my childhood. He is holding a "daisy glass" like the one I painted as a favorite symbol of that time period.

Here Dad is, circa 1943, with his younger brother.

And here, holding me, sometime in February, 1967.

Here we are, sledding in front of our barn in the winter of 1968.

Dad with his pockets out and empty when I spent all his money!

* * * *

My father was an animal lover of the first order. He was always more comfortable in social situations if there were pets around for him to walk or love up or feed. He would go on golfing trips with his friends and when we would get the film developed of his trip there would be a zillion pictures of horses in fields or a whole roll of different angles of a dog he met somewhere. Recently, he enjoyed reporting about the daily habits of Pie and Sovereign in the pastures. The very last conversation I had with him he told me to go and "play with your horsies". Unbelievably, his funeral procession drove right by our farm and Pie and Sovereign were in the pasture by the road. It was a glorious sunny morning and they were standing there just watching us go by.

Mom and I rode the boys yesterday morning and found our smiles again because of their sweet silliness.