Judge Jim Lammey leaned back in his leather chair, put his feet on the desk and gazed out the window. It had been another long day of goofing on the internet and oogling secretaries. A truck pulled into the lot outside, screeched to a halt, half blocking two spaces and a man hopped out and hurried up the steps to the courthouse holding a speeding ticket in his hand. Holy crap! He recognized him! It was Mark Stewart, his old hunting buddy. Judge Lammey thought a minute, picked up the phone and called downstairs to the courtroom.
Mark, the old Mailrider went to the desk to pay his ticket and the pretty little girl told him not to worry about it, he was only going a few miles over the limit and his license was in good standing. She tore up the ticket and wished him a good day.
Wow! What a stroke of luck, Mark thought as he practically skipped out the door and down the marble steps to his pickup. Unfortunately there was a brand new parking ticket in the center of his windshield. Damn! What a screw-up! He looked around, shook his head, got in the truck and drove off.
Judge Lammey, peeping out the window, almost had a heart-attack laughing so hard.
No turkeys were taken this weekend at the Christmas Place. Good news is that Dad finally did hear a turkey gobble. There is some nasty talk that this could not possibly happen unless the turkey was actually in the blind with Dad.
Paul and I found the old trunk easier than you might think. As kids we had a desire to collect old artifacts of all kinds. Arrowheads, old coins, old bottles, whatever was old and might be valuable one day. I can't tell you how many old creeks we walked, how many old dumps we dug in or how many old hearths and floorboards we checked. We both have an eye for things like that and realizing that the old bathroom was not as deep as it should be intrigued us. Breaking into the small space we found the old trunk. It is well preserved and full of parts of journals, photographs from the turn of the century and how the Christmas Place became a hunting legend. The man behind it all was Horatio S. Christmas, the famed explorer and big game hunter. A man obsesssed with the rarest, most extraordinary creatures in the world.
At this time of year the famous Christmas Place is beautiful. Dogwoods are blooming and the big forest are a joy to walk in. So in honor of the striking sights to be seen on the property, I have decided to post pictures of not only the beauty here but of some of the commonly seen strange sights that you have heard about.
Spring is in the air at the famous Christmas Place. Everything is turning green and most days you can see Thunderhoof sunning himself in the large food plot beside the camp enjoying the weather. It is time for fishing, golf, cooking out and hunting turkeys. Dad is down there now hunting turkeys and chasing Thunderhoof out of the garden with a broom. Crappie fishing and turkey hunting, what could be better?
Finally, Denise and I are going to take a long weekend and are headed to the famous Beau Rivage on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. A little warm weather, a little salt air, a little night life, and hitting the jackpot for 3 or 4 million dollars should get me jump started again. I will try and remember all you little people when I come back with all that money.
