Archery can bring you to the point of throwing your bow and arrows into the hedge and swearing confidently you will never, ever do this again. And then you take up dominos or bridge or competitive scrapbooking instead. This summer has restored my lost confidence, and even with adding back the medieval torture device they call a clicker, I've been loving it lately.
Last week, I had a rare light-bulb moment when a tin-y change in bow hand alignment and a deeper hook suddenly had me in the middle of my bow. That's a confidence builder right there, I do declare. Even though the dark showed up way too early and the blood suckers were out for vengance, it was a seriously productive couple of hours that ended in the garage blank baling in front of the mirror. Certain things are starting to become automatic in my draw sequence (cue audible sigh of relief here).
This weekend I put out the call on FB to see if anyone else wanted to shoot with me. Grant raised his hand and so we made a plan to shoot the 40-50-60 range at our local range in the morning. One of those gorgeous fall mornings that still thinks it's summertime. Sunny, not too hot, just a little chill in the air. Between wrangling arrows out of the sparkling new targets, we admired Marcia's new paint pony, literally fresh off the horse van from Nebraska. A great blue heron did an illegal fly-by and gave us the hairy eyeball before taking off for undisturbed waters. It was a nice hour or so spent in some good shooting company. I'll think about that one in March when I am tired of 20 yards and the smell of snow.
Oh, yeah. For those of you still waiting for me to drop the f-bomb, here ya go. Fun. Don't be sending the hate mail now.
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