I scanned the sky overhead. The wispy streaks of the morning had given way to a high hazy overcast. Tops of advancing clouds were beginning to appear ...n the western horizon. The minuscule amount of weather lore I still remembered from my days as a Tenderfoot Scout told me high, thin clouds and mare’s tails were telltale signs of approaching storm systems and usually signaled that a weather front was moving in.We left base around 9:00 AM and had been on the trail for almost four hours. If we. With my heart pounding, Ipresented the test, the "F" at the top blazing in red like the emblem ofsome rogue religion, to Mom. Her eyes blazed."So!" she began venomously, "I guess you want to dig ditches for the rest ofyour life. That's certainly where you're headed!"It didn't matter that nobody dug ditches any more. I suppose it's somethingshe heard from her own parents, their way of expressing disapproval. I knewbetter than to argue the point, though."No, Mom. I..." I suppose want to be a bum,. As his two closest childhood friends called him, could not believe that his parents were gone. Just last week, he and his wife were sitting in this very room, talking with them as his three-year-old son played on the floor and his one-year-old daughter slept.Clive Putnam psatored the Baptist church in town and his loving wife, Patricia, stood by his side, supporting him all along the way. Two weeks ago, they were returning from a church function from the next town over when a drunk driver. ”He handed me the other bow, Romulus’ bow, and an arrow. I struggled a little bit getting the bow strung. I nocked an arrow and started to raise the bow to fire, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me.“No, Jess, that won’t work. You’re going to hurt yourself and probably ruin a perfectly good arrow in the process.”We started from the very beginning, with the absolute basics of archery. He began by telling me what the bow was made of and why it was shaped the way it was shaped. He showed me how.