My schedule was all off yesterday and between one thing and three little others I forgot to post this here. Sometimes I don’t cross post because I don’t think it’s really good. But this time, although you might think it’s not very good, I didn’t cross post because my mind slipped like it was on ice.
The farm in Ohio I grew up on had a pasture on the slope of a hill running down to a ravine.

The man-made pond was near the top of the hill.

In the winter when it was cold and the hill was covered with snow, we would drag the sleds up to the top of the hill.

Often Dad would build a bonfire as we’d sled down the hill.

In the right conditions, we could reach break neck speeds — at least break ankle speeds which my older brother did when he failed to stop before going into the ravine and dropping about 10 feet to the rocks below.

Those were happy times, and not just the winter when my brother did that — although as the victim of some of his more ruthless brotherliness that too was a happy story.

Sometimes we’d drink hot cocoa and roast marshmallows and hot dogs on sticks over the fire.

The best though was riding together on the toboggan. My brother in the front and the rest of the us behind.

Life races by too fast, but sometimes you got to stop and enjoy the hill.

That’s my happy story this evening. You might post anything you wish but please leave any brotherly fights outside.

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