After I finished driver's training, I thought I was road-ready, but passing the behind-the-wheel driver's test turned out to be something like climbing Mt. Everest. It took me four tries to pass it. The first was not entirely due to poor driving.
The old Ford gave one final cough, then shuddered and died.
“Oh that’s just great,” Jerry thought, “Ten miles out in the Arizona desert at 2:00 a.m. Like somebody’s gonna stop out here and lend a hand.
Three quarters of a mile down the road, about 100 yards off to the right side; another traveler had stalled his vehicle, and like Jerry was disembarking to search for help.
One day in early summer the pig disappeared. Although they searched the countryside for him, the Johnsons couldn’t find him. They figured they had seen the last of the little piglet…
Julia awoke to a golden morning, the kind of day when the sun beamed through the open east window making everything in the room sparkle, especially the rose zircon earrings waiting on her bureau.
Outside she heard the cacophony of the half-tail squirrel who lived in the live oak at the side of the driveway. This morning he was loudly arguing with a raucous murder of crows. Murder, might be the usual descriptive word for a flock like this, but actually these were a band of pirates. The squirrel was an easy mark for them. He had a penchant for contraband and the band of crows frequently pillaged his treasures.
The other day, I watched one neighboring squirrel raid the nest of the homesteader in our front yard tree. A few days later, the homesteader buried another cache of nuts on our boulevard. As soon as he left, the neighbor came over, searched, pillaged and re-buried our homesteader's bounty. No wonder the homesteader can't find his stockpile!