The old man didn't know why he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. It was mid morning and he and his wife were getting ready to go out to the local park for wildlife watching. But the old man felt something was not quite right in the world. He'd been feeling this for a while now, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. Just a vague feeling of disquiet. Then following a sudden thought, he walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top one. The sock drawer. The inner sanctum of those small objects that tend to be coveted and stuck away. Pulling the drawer fully out, he rooted around the very back the drawer. A small tray of some spare Swiss Army knives that he'd been using as his sole EDC pocket knives, a spare North American Arms mini revolver, his old Cross pen, a small sharpening stone in a worn leather case. But there was his old pocket knife that he'd carried a very long time before he'd switched to the Swiss Army knife on his 80th birthday. He'd had a fit of extreme pragmatic thoughts when he turned the big eight-oh, and he'd retired his Case peanut for the small pocket knife with some tools on it.
He took out the little yellow handle peanut, his "Little Legume" as he used to call it, and chicken eyed and coon fingered it throughly. Then he felt the edge. Time had blunted the blue and gray stained blade a tiny bit, so he took out the small stone and gave it a quick touch up. Using the small over lapping circles like his father and old scout master had taught him, "from kick to tip, and take a minute to get there." Afterward he slid the stone back in its leather case and then lightly stropped the blade on the leather. Feeling the edge, the shiny new steel grabbed at the ridges of the thumb print eager to cut. The old man loved how easy and fast the old carbon steel was to touch up.With a smile, he dropped the newly sharpened peanut into his pocket. Then, taking the rolled up bandana and shaking it out, he loosely wadded it up and shoved it down in his pocket to keep the Legume from sliding out and becoming a lost legume.
Later, out by the large pond or small lake, he and his wife had their folding chairs set up side by side like their usual custom. The daypacks set on the ground between the chairs. They had been watching a large blue Heron, smaller green heron, and two yellow capped Night Herons stalking and fishing in the shallow marsh of reeds and tall grass along the edges of the water. As their usual custom, his wife took out a small plastic cutting board that she handed to the old man, followed by a bag of sourdough rolls. The old man took out his yellow peanut and sliced a few of the rolls in half and passed them back to his wife who made small sandwiches from the zip lock bag of ham slices she had in her bag. Looking over at her husband, she did a double take.
'it's been a long time since I've seen you with your little legume." She remarked to him.
The old man thought for a moment as was his habit before replying.
"Yeah, I've been a bit caught in the multitool thing for a while now. it's been a bit since I've carried a pocket knife that didn't have tools on it. " he said.
"So what's changed?" his wife inquired.
"Well, it's nice to have the scissors. It's nice to have the file, and it's nice to have the screw driver." He said, "But sometimes you just need a knife. And I was getting a little tired of the color red. At this pointing life I don't know how many wake-ups I've got coming, and times too short for boring pocket knives."
She nodded, understanding where he was coming from. Then she handed him a ham sandwich on one of the little rolls and a plastic mustard pack. She watched as he used the sharp blade to neatly slice off a corner of the plastic mustard pack with no effort or dragging of the blade.
"Sharp little thing, isn't it?" she remarked with a smile.
"Dad always said, 'it doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
After finishing the ham sandwich, the old man packed and lit his pipe. He felt that all was right in his world again.
He took out the little yellow handle peanut, his "Little Legume" as he used to call it, and chicken eyed and coon fingered it throughly. Then he felt the edge. Time had blunted the blue and gray stained blade a tiny bit, so he took out the small stone and gave it a quick touch up. Using the small over lapping circles like his father and old scout master had taught him, "from kick to tip, and take a minute to get there." Afterward he slid the stone back in its leather case and then lightly stropped the blade on the leather. Feeling the edge, the shiny new steel grabbed at the ridges of the thumb print eager to cut. The old man loved how easy and fast the old carbon steel was to touch up.With a smile, he dropped the newly sharpened peanut into his pocket. Then, taking the rolled up bandana and shaking it out, he loosely wadded it up and shoved it down in his pocket to keep the Legume from sliding out and becoming a lost legume.
Later, out by the large pond or small lake, he and his wife had their folding chairs set up side by side like their usual custom. The daypacks set on the ground between the chairs. They had been watching a large blue Heron, smaller green heron, and two yellow capped Night Herons stalking and fishing in the shallow marsh of reeds and tall grass along the edges of the water. As their usual custom, his wife took out a small plastic cutting board that she handed to the old man, followed by a bag of sourdough rolls. The old man took out his yellow peanut and sliced a few of the rolls in half and passed them back to his wife who made small sandwiches from the zip lock bag of ham slices she had in her bag. Looking over at her husband, she did a double take.
'it's been a long time since I've seen you with your little legume." She remarked to him.
The old man thought for a moment as was his habit before replying.
"Yeah, I've been a bit caught in the multitool thing for a while now. it's been a bit since I've carried a pocket knife that didn't have tools on it. " he said.
"So what's changed?" his wife inquired.
"Well, it's nice to have the scissors. It's nice to have the file, and it's nice to have the screw driver." He said, "But sometimes you just need a knife. And I was getting a little tired of the color red. At this pointing life I don't know how many wake-ups I've got coming, and times too short for boring pocket knives."
She nodded, understanding where he was coming from. Then she handed him a ham sandwich on one of the little rolls and a plastic mustard pack. She watched as he used the sharp blade to neatly slice off a corner of the plastic mustard pack with no effort or dragging of the blade.
"Sharp little thing, isn't it?" she remarked with a smile.
"Dad always said, 'it doesn't have to be big, just sharp."
After finishing the ham sandwich, the old man packed and lit his pipe. He felt that all was right in his world again.
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