Bow Tie o’ the Day is here to say I’ve had a hankering to go fishing. I found this PRADA fishing jacket in the pages of VOGUE magazine, and as soon as I can save the $2,130. for the jacket and the $690. for the shirt, I’m definitely planning a fishing trip. The ad doesn’t say how much the boots cost, so I’ll save up an extra thousand bucks just to be sure I can afford them. Not.
Anyhoo… Without setting out to do it, I made a second “snow” angel in the earth below the tree “house,” later on during the same summer I made the infamous Tumbleweed Angel (see previous post). I was probably 6 or 7 that year. I was up in the tree sitting on the piece of wood we called a treehouse, reading WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS for the dozenth time— boo hoo-ing about the tragedies befalling the Redbone Coonhounds, Old Dan and Little Ann. I’m sure it was the bucket of tears in my crying eyes that caused me to fall back and away from the tree. For the second time.
My body wafted from the tree house, down to the vacant lot below it— where I landed in a kind of backflop. A cloud of dust rose from the ground and surrounded me. The tumbleweeds that caught me in my previous post weren’t there anymore. The vacant lot had recently been cleared and tilled. I hit nothing but overturned dirt clods. I lay flat on my back, in an indention created by my weight pushing the soft clods into the ground under me. The wind got knocked out of me in a bigly way. I thought the dust might even be smoke. It felt like I would never take a breath again. As I lay there trying to breathe, my arms flailed. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was making yet another incredible, unbelievable “snow” angel, which I will forever refer to as The Clod Angel. I was completely unharmed by my fall from the tree. Again.
Clearly, I’m protected by angels of my own making.