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Pastimes : Favorite Quotes -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: mr.mark who wrote (7543)	6/3/2001 3:19:57 PM
From: Volsi Mimir	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 13018

Walking Targets ~Scott Poole For hours my mother had been digging the wrong furrow. It had looked like the right furrow when she started but somehow it became a circular furrow. So she started another furrow inside the other and soon the new furrow had turned circular too just smaller. She looked around, then began another furrow and that one became just a circular blob in the middle of the other two furrows. “Shit,” she said, and sat down right in the middle of her bull’s-eye. She produced a harmonica and began to play the furrow blues. I went up on the roof of the barn and sure enough if any bomb was looking for a target it would have no trouble finding this furrow in which to plant itself. But, the way she blew that harp made the furrows feel good like they were rippling out from her, rather than circling in. I could see the whole land knew what she was playing, the whole land had been planted all along in the waves of this target blues. I thought, how could this be the wrong furrow? I came from this furrow.