Paul Heeding "Heed"

Today would have been my grandpa's 87th birthday. All week long things have been reminding me of him. Little things people say or do, this morning I woke up to find it had rained over night and I took my dogs outside to do their duties and the smell of sage came over me and reminded me of all our deer hunting trips. I was always the tom boy so I went hunting with grandpa, my dad, and cousins. I miss those days crawling around in the mountains before the sun even comes up so we could get to the "ideal hunting spot" before the sun gave away our location to the animals. It hardly ever worked. I dont think grandpa even wanted it to work most of the time. He just liked going camping and walking the hills. Some years he was so sore and feet swollen he would literally sleep in his boots so his feet couldnt swell up over night and not be able to put the boots on in the morning. What a fight it was for my dad who thought you had to be covered from head to toe in orange so you didnt get shot to get grandpa to wear any orange at all. Grandpa usually only wore a single vest of orange if any. I think of all the weekends he spent having grandkids stay over when I'm sure there were other things he would have loved to do something else. His sunday routine of going to Harmons to buy a paper always turned into such a production dragging along three or four of us all piled in his old pick up. He was a joker and loved to laugh. He had such a deep rolling laughter that shook his whole body. He loved very much but didnt show it all the time. If you pointed a camera at him he would "strike a pose" every time. Rather it was putting grandma in a mock head lock with one arm and balling a fist with the other like he was going to hit her (which he never ever did), or cracking the biggest goofiest grin nashing his teeth, or just flat out arms on hips or splayed out in the air posing. I have very few "serious" pics of him. Happy birthday grandpa. Love and miss you always.