There is great promise of life.  Lulu Sugarfoot and I embark on a 16 year tradition when the blooms are just ready to pop in the Chickamauga Battlefield.  There is a wise old Ginkgo tree in Dyer field, the site of a southern homestead turned battleground during the Civil War.   Early spring will usually find me here.
Under the Ginkgo is a carpet of daffodils surely planted either by Mother Nature or some southern belle wishing to brighten the cabin.  Over the years the blooms have thinned, but even on this cloudy day beauty is still here.   If you listen, the Ginkgo will whisper the secrets of dying confederate soldiers in the wind.
Today my 12 year old Lulu is showing her age.  Her stained teeth have worn to nubs.  It grieves me to see an obvious limp develop just in the last month.  Her once muscular hind legs are thin with atrophy.  Her heart and soul is still happy and strong.  She still smiles.  Nothing delights her more than than sound of human laughter.
The Tradewind is dewinterized, all systems go.  Next week my K-9 BFF will travel with me.  A little camping with friends, a check-in with Elvis, a spring breakout for the Airstream.  It’s been a frozen cold winter.  Until now.

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