Murphy Bytes

I’ve been spending some time in Iowa the state where I grew up. I was driving to the airport in Des Moines taking back roads feeling nostalgic. All of the corn is dry and ready to harvest the ditches and gullies of gray dead grass hiding deer and pheasants. This used to be my favorite time of year. The time of hunting dogs, shotguns and early mornings in the field. My eyes are still programmed to see certain motion patterns that indicate a duck, a deer, a rabbit. I think of passing on the unspoken things that my father passed on to me. Quiet masculine companionship, hunting, breath fogging the cold air, love of nature, life and death.