It was a really beautiful day today, in the 40's with bright sunshine. Perfect weather and the sunshine made everyone feel happy. This is the White Mountain range from Rt. 2 in Danville, taken through a spotty window, thanks to all the rain we've had and the resulting muddy roads, and at a speed of approximately 50 mph. But you get the idea - it was a pretty day.

We were in St. Johnsbury again today - I had an appointment to have my eyes checked. Fred did the shopping and got everything on the list (except a couple of things he couldn't find that weren't that important anyway) and best of all, he didn't load up the cart with a bunch of stuff we don't need! It went so well I told him I really like the idea of him doing the grocery shopping and maybe he should do it more often. It's one chore I really don't enjoy much except we usually see people we know and it's always nice to catch up with friends.

On the way home we were behind a pickup truck with a buck in it. I got the picture as we passed the truck coming out of St. Johnsbury. It didn't have a very big rack, and looked like an old deer - it didn't have the nice sleek coat we've seen on those that have been around our house. Regular hunting season starts on Saturday here, and we will worry about the deer we've been watching this summer. I just read that Vermont's deer herd is at between 125,000 and 150,000, so I guess the wildlife management folks are pleased. We do see more deer than we used to, and last winter wasn't particularly hard on them, so I suppose it's necessary to "harvest" some of them; but they are so pretty, I hate to think of them being hunted and killed.

When I was growing up, deer hunting was really big in our family. My father and uncles all wanted to "bag a buck" and got out there at the crack of dawn, stationed at some favorite anticipated crossing. Every night when they came in, hungry, cold and tired from being all day in the woods, there were deer stories over dinner and elaborate plans for the next day's hunt. We always had visitors during deer hunting - friends and relatives would often come from out of state to hunt. Some years nobody got a deer, but that didn't seem to matter - there was always next year. None of my family went to "deer camp" with the guys to hunt. Our house WAS deer camp, better because my mother was there to cook meals and pack lunches for them, but probably not as much fun as real deer camp because they had to mind their manners and there was no booze or card playing. Dad still had to do chores morning and night unless one of my uncles would agree to take his place. But with all of them wanting to get out into the woods, it was hard to strike a deal.

One of my father's favorite places to hunt was in Woodbury, not far from the town line bordering Cabot. He shot a really big buck there one year - well over 300 lbs. The mounted head is now at the Cabot Historical Museum, still looking pretty darned good.

We were saddened today to learn that John Delyea, manager at the Montpelier Social Security office when we worked there, died on Tuesday. John was such a nice person and great to work for. He had a keen sense of humor - a huge asset in that job - and was one of the great story tellers of all time. John loved life and lived it well. We hadn't seen him for many years - he retired before we did - but we will always have fond memories of him.