I was quite pleased that winter was not bad this year in north Georgia. There were a few spits of snow and several cool, rainy days, but all in all, winter was mild. That is…until March came.
Our peach trees began to bloom. Geese flew over by the dozens on their way north, and I decided that before long, those first seeds would be planted in the ground for the family garden, and warm, pleasant flying days would soon be upon us. Wrong.
It all started at the hotel in Richmond Hill, Ga., a quaint little town outside of Savannah located along the seemingly endless ribbon of concrete known as Interstate Highway I-95. They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and my Old Man fully believes this maxim. Unfortunately, the hotel’s dining room, which taunted a “free deluxe hot breakfast buffet,” was full of snowbirds eager to claim as much of the free carb and chemical laden booty as possible.
Frustration: A deep chronic sense or state of insecurity and dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems or unfulfilled needs. Boy, does that describe my state of being for the last two days!
I should hate Tia Robertson. She’s tall, blonde, slim, beautiful and a professional pilot. Her family also owns a Cessna 195, a Cessna 170, and a Taylorcraft, all meticulously restored, all beautiful.
Today, my sister-in-law is getting married.
There is a smile on my face and joy in my heart as I write this. While my readers may think, “Gee that’s nice, Mrs. McFarland, but what does this have to do with flying?”
It has everything to do with my flying of late because it gives me perspective.
“It’s funny how things evolve. If you’ve ever noticed, change is seldom abrupt. Instead, it comes like spring, in small, barely perceptible stages, until one day you look around and realize your world is green again. That’s the way it was with Boonie.
One day, Charles Watson Darnell, known about town simply as Boonie, was just a passenger, someone who liked to fly. Before too long, he was my friend. This is not so unusual except that maybe 30 years stand between us. Now, he is so much more.
In a couple of weeks, the Old Man and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. I can’t say that it seems just like yesterday that we were young newlyweds. We’ve enjoyed a full and satisfying 30 years, and we have tried to take advantage of each and every precious day.
We’ve been blessed to experience many special things in those years. We’ve grown a wonderful family. We’ve had some grand adventures, and we’ve done a little flying here and there, lately a little more here than there. When we first started our lives together, times were tough. Gas was expensive. Jobs were scarce. The economic outlook was dim. Seems like we’ve come full circle.
Deb McFarland is the proud owner of Lester, a 1948 Luscombe 8E, and part of the “Front Porch Gang” at Pickens County Airport in Georgia.
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