Jack of Harts

I grew up on spring mornings smelling the dew on the air and the insects buzzing their happy tunes. I walked through the forests, canoed down the rivers, and fished in the lakes. I swam in cold springs to wash off the day’s grime and started bonfires on the beach to warm us long into the night. That’s vacation to a lot of you. It was my job. It changed from day to day and season to season, but as I remember I showed cityfolk a good time out on the edge of civilization. It was a good life. I would have happily spent all the days of my life there and never felt cheated out of anything. It was heaven.