Daddy's Clouds

This morning, on the way to an estate sale in Alabaster, (didn't buy anything) I noticed the interesting clouds in the bright blue sky. I mentioned photographing clouds in my post yesterday and had "liked" pictures of clouds afterward on Facebook. Being introspective, to the extreme, I tried to remember when I started noticing clouds. It was my dad. He was a pilot in the army when I was very young. I don't know if you would call it a fascination, but he had a necessary interest in clouds in relation to his flying. Daddy was observant and shared things he noticed. He would be driving down the road and say something like "Look at that thunder bumper. It has to be thirty thousand feet high. It will be raining soon." (I'm sure I am off on the height but it was a long time ago.) He would use words like cirrus or cumulus. It wasn't a lecture. He simply shared his thoughts.

My dad was a very smart man and he spent time with his daughters -
Although my mother dearly loves her flowers, it was my dad who took us to dig wildflowers in the woods. He took us to the strip pits in Tuscaloosa County to hunt for arrowheads, petrified wood, and interesting rocks.  He had a rock polisher. We would make jewelry out of the smooth polished stones. Later daddy went to jewelry school. He then taught me how to silver plate a copper ring. I learned about engraving.
In junior high, he took me to Valley Creek (a cesspool at the time) to dig Alabama clay for a school pottery project.
Daddy taught me gun safety and to shoot about every kind of gun.
When he wanted to be a weekend farmer, he drug us kicking and screaming every weekend to work "on the farm."
I was very young when my dad took me to a Barry Goldwater rally. Later we worked on the Nixon campaign in the Bessemer area.
My dad had a soft spot for stray animals - to my mother's vexation.
Daddy liked to read. He wasn't much of a breakfast person, but what little he ate in the morning was accompanied by the newspaper and some sort of political magazine.
My dad loved to cook and experiment with recipes. He wanted to be the grill master. I think his greatest pleasure was someone bragging on his food.
And Junk! Daddy had a pawn shop. Everything we had was recycled. He would bring home bags of coins for us to sort at night. Until about 1965, dimes and quarters were made from silver. After the introduction of copper sandwich coins, we would sort the change and pull out the silver ones. We also found Indian head pennies and buffalo nickels. Daddy bought the blue coin books for us to fill the various years and "S" or "D" or whatever. Sometimes people would sell bags of assorted metal "stuff" to him. I found all kinds of American coins, foreign coins, and even German medals.
Although he wasn't a whiskey drinker, he collected commemorative bottles, like Elvis.

For better or worse, the time my dad invested in me shaped who I am.
I still pick up rocks. There are quartz and amethyst beauties in my flower beds and geodes on my book shelves.
I have been known to pull over and dig flowers from a ditch alongside the highway. Don't judge.
I am an avid (not rabid) fan of the political process with a strong belief in the 2nd Amendment.
I live "on the farm" such as it is. I craft and am surrounded by my junk, garden, and strays.

I was blessed beyond belief to have Wm. P. McClinton as my dad. He died at the tender age of 56.