This time of year I can barely contain my excitement. Scott feels it too. The slightest shift in the weather towards Fall and we’re on the phone with each other immediately.

“Can you feel it? CAN YOU FEEL IT? It’s getting colder! It’s that time of the year again! Huntin’! HUNTIN’! Aiiiyeeeee!!!”

“Yeah, I can feel it.  It’s been a mild summer so it’s going to be a cold and wet Fall, I can feel it. This is going to be a banner year for blacktail bucks! I can’t wait, dude! Can you FEEL it?!!!”

“Wait…  are you outside?  Go outside.  Stop.  Listen…  do you feel that???!!!!”

We’ll talk for a bit. Just enough to get myself all fucking wound up, and then I’m pacing the room and bouncing off the walls. Sometimes it’ll get to be too much and I’ll have to let a little bit out. I’ll make some kind of long, drawn-out, and high-pitched sound, shaking my fists and doing jumping karate kicks around the room–then I’ll be OK. It’s not good to keep that kind of shit inside.

So it’s been very cool in Northern California the past few days. The phone rings the other night and it’s Scott. “CAN YOU FEEL IT?” I’m so hyped I couldn’t fall asleep. I was still awake at 7am, thinking about hunting and Trinity.

Ohhh, it’s time.

…eating chili every night with half a gallon of Crystal hot sauce dumped on it, cocktail hour, grilling various meats for dinner, sitting by the campfire every night, taking pulls off the warm bottle of Cappy, getting out of bed before the sun comes up, taking naps in the afternoon under a tall pine tree, listening to the wind whip through the trees, not another stranger for miles around, having the whole mountain to ourselves…

Ahhh yes. It’s almost time to go home, errr… I mean… time to go back to Trinity.

Yesterday was the last downtown Hayward street-faire for 2006. I moseyed on down there around 6pm and met the son of Gib for a few pints at The Bistro.

B Street was closed off from Foothill to Mission, and all of Main Street from A Street to C Street. All along Main Street were parked old timey cars in perfect condition. At each intersection of B Street a band played everything from country and blues to jazz and rock ‘n roll.

Ange and his wife Karen strolled by with Jennifer Silverman and Paul Gonsalves in tow. We played a quick game of catchup and I let them go on their way.

The band playing at The Bistro was incredible. Cari Lee And The Saddle-ites set up on the patio and entertained us with their blend of western swing, bluegrass, and country. They had a great rapport with the crowd. The way they were dressed looked like they had just stepped out of The Grapes Of Wrath or Of Mice And Men. After the show, my sister Deborah talked Cari Lee’s ear off for what seemed like forever and about God knows what.

Jen The Gypsy drank the better part of my pints of double IPA. “We’ll just get one and split it.”

Kellie and Tabetha showed up around 8pm. It was an awkward moment, but Kev and I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. We all love The Bistro.

And then Deborah was buying me a slice of pizza, but she wasn’t that hungry so she was just going to get a bottle of water. And then she ate half of my slice.

And as my mother was so fond of saying, “That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.”

Signing off.

Got some pictures from opening day weekend. It was hot, dusty, and dry and the only deer we saw were does and fawns–nothing legal. But still, a good time was had by all.

The Tansen Ranch September 2006