definitely take after their owners.
I can’t help but giggle as I start petting both dogs. “You and Deacon named your dogs after liquor? Are you serious?”
“That’s nothin’. Tucker has a basset hound named Hiram Walker. And we used to have a fish named Patron.”
I let out a snort.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, watching me with an amused expression.
“I’m just picturing a little Mexican fish with a poncho and a sombrero,” I tell him, and then we’re both laughing. After a minute or two, I finally stop and wipe the tears from my eyes. When I look up, Micah has stopped laughing, but a slight, crooked smile is still there. His eyes squint at me, and the twinkle I saw that first day in the parking lot is back.
I feel my knees grow weaker the longer he looks at me. I think we’re having a moment, but I’m not sure. I clear my throat, regaining my composure. If I stand here any longer, I’ll be in a puddle at his feet and that would be very counter-productive.
“Well,” I start, looking into the big black eyes of my new four-legged friends, “it’s been lovely meeting you boys, but I must get back to work,” I say in my most serious voice, patting them on their heads and giving their ears a good rubbing.
Micah and I exchange another brief look. There’s something unsaid hanging in the air, but we both awkwardly look away, and Micah encourages the dogs to move closer to the house. Filling a large bowl with fresh water, he leaves me to my work.
I retrieve my camera from the golf cart and begin walking around the property, taking pictures as I go, gaining a whole new perspective of the main house from this distance. I even manage to sneak in a few pictures of Micah when he isn’t looking. I love capturing people in their element. It’s so raw and natural. I walk a little farther down a paved-stone path toward the back of the house. There, tied between two big oak trees, is a large white hammock. I let out a little squeal as visions of my childhood come rushing back to me. Brushing my hand along the woven fabric, I close my eyes, and for a moment, I’m in knee-high green grass in the backwoods of Mississippi. Stepping back for a moment, I snap a picture as the sun hits the hammock just right between the thick leaves of the overhanging trees. This one isn’t for the article—it’s for me.
Micah jogs up to me and gives me a peculiar look.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing he’s a little out of breath.
“I was just getting ready to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh,” I say, a slow blush creeping up on my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen one of these since I was kid,” I explain. “My grandma had one in her yard. I used to love spending summer afternoons swinging and sleeping on it. I guess I got a little too excited.”
He laughs and runs a hand through his hair before slapping his baseball cap back on. “Well, by all means.” He gestures toward the hammock, encouraging me to hop on.
I gingerly sit on the edge, taking extra care not to fall on my ass in front of Micah for a second time. After successfully climbing in, I kick my legs out and make the hammock rock to life.
“Do you use this thing much?” I ask, glancing up to see Micah leaning against the closest tree.
“Not nearly as much as I should,” he replies.
I allow my head to sink into the hammock, my eyes finding a clear patch between the leaves. Once again, I’m mesmerized by how clear and blue the sky is above me. As two white puffy clouds drift by the treetops, I lift my camera and take a few shots from this perspective.
The shade from the large oak trees makes the summer heat more bearable, and as I let my mind drift off for a moment, I forget about boyfriends and jobs. I watch the clouds pass and just let myself be until the brilliant blue eyes staring down at me replace the pale blue of the sky.
“We best be making our way back to the house, Chuck.”
“Oh, right. Sure.” I try to get out of the
I can’t help but giggle as I start petting both dogs. “You and Deacon named your dogs after liquor? Are you serious?”
“That’s nothin’. Tucker has a basset hound named Hiram Walker. And we used to have a fish named Patron.”
I let out a snort.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, watching me with an amused expression.
“I’m just picturing a little Mexican fish with a poncho and a sombrero,” I tell him, and then we’re both laughing. After a minute or two, I finally stop and wipe the tears from my eyes. When I look up, Micah has stopped laughing, but a slight, crooked smile is still there. His eyes squint at me, and the twinkle I saw that first day in the parking lot is back.
I feel my knees grow weaker the longer he looks at me. I think we’re having a moment, but I’m not sure. I clear my throat, regaining my composure. If I stand here any longer, I’ll be in a puddle at his feet and that would be very counter-productive.
“Well,” I start, looking into the big black eyes of my new four-legged friends, “it’s been lovely meeting you boys, but I must get back to work,” I say in my most serious voice, patting them on their heads and giving their ears a good rubbing.
Micah and I exchange another brief look. There’s something unsaid hanging in the air, but we both awkwardly look away, and Micah encourages the dogs to move closer to the house. Filling a large bowl with fresh water, he leaves me to my work.
I retrieve my camera from the golf cart and begin walking around the property, taking pictures as I go, gaining a whole new perspective of the main house from this distance. I even manage to sneak in a few pictures of Micah when he isn’t looking. I love capturing people in their element. It’s so raw and natural. I walk a little farther down a paved-stone path toward the back of the house. There, tied between two big oak trees, is a large white hammock. I let out a little squeal as visions of my childhood come rushing back to me. Brushing my hand along the woven fabric, I close my eyes, and for a moment, I’m in knee-high green grass in the backwoods of Mississippi. Stepping back for a moment, I snap a picture as the sun hits the hammock just right between the thick leaves of the overhanging trees. This one isn’t for the article—it’s for me.
Micah jogs up to me and gives me a peculiar look.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing he’s a little out of breath.
“I was just getting ready to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh,” I say, a slow blush creeping up on my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen one of these since I was kid,” I explain. “My grandma had one in her yard. I used to love spending summer afternoons swinging and sleeping on it. I guess I got a little too excited.”
He laughs and runs a hand through his hair before slapping his baseball cap back on. “Well, by all means.” He gestures toward the hammock, encouraging me to hop on.
I gingerly sit on the edge, taking extra care not to fall on my ass in front of Micah for a second time. After successfully climbing in, I kick my legs out and make the hammock rock to life.
“Do you use this thing much?” I ask, glancing up to see Micah leaning against the closest tree.
“Not nearly as much as I should,” he replies.
I allow my head to sink into the hammock, my eyes finding a clear patch between the leaves. Once again, I’m mesmerized by how clear and blue the sky is above me. As two white puffy clouds drift by the treetops, I lift my camera and take a few shots from this perspective.
The shade from the large oak trees makes the summer heat more bearable, and as I let my mind drift off for a moment, I forget about boyfriends and jobs. I watch the clouds pass and just let myself be until the brilliant blue eyes staring down at me replace the pale blue of the sky.
“We best be making our way back to the house, Chuck.”
“Oh, right. Sure.” I try to get out of the
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