We never actually made it out to the Sierras as we’d planned, but the back yard served just as well, didn’t it. There weren’t any bears and wolves out there, but there were the Blossums’s ducks, which are still around (I can hear them now), even though Lee Roy is no longer around to feed them (Did your mother ever send you the obit?). I remember how much you enjoyed playing with our fine feathered friends as a boy.
Say, you’ve been missing out on a lot back here, besides the back yard birds and your mother’s cooking and my sintillating (sp?) literary conversation. You’re also missing out on watching your exceptional nephew and niece grow up. (Strictly speaking, she’s your grandniece—have I got you interested? interested enough to write for more info? It’s quite a story!)