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So they did it again. The crew of friends blew into Warner Saturday afternoon from the Four Directions, kicked around a few ideas, pulled what they needed for props and material out of the 35-year-old treasure trove malingering in Jesse's mom's barn, and by 1 pm Sunday they were jiving down Main Street, Warner, on their way to another win.

A brief glimpse into the state of mind of your blogger as he brews a batch of beer on the gas grill late in the afternoon in mid-August. The bittersweet days of late summer; the song of crickets; the low, slanting yellow light. Thoughts of winter. Listening to Prairie Home Companion in spite of his better judgment simply for the company.