Woman Midwest-style

Things to consider weight trigger grip length grip diameter ergonomics eye dominance If a gun you’re holding requires you to stretch your index finger in order to reach the trigger, there’s a good chance your rounds will impact left of your point of aim (assuming you’re right-handed). That’s because with too little finger on the trigger it’s difficult to press the trigger directly rearward.  In such a case, your right index finger tends to push the trigger, and therefore the muzzle, to the left.  A right-handed shooter with too much finger on the trigger is likely to experience the opposite problem.  The trigger tends to be pulled to the right, and consequently, the rounds will impact to the right of the point of aim.    As a new shooter, in the previous post, the author writes he didn’t understand the emphasis on the phrase “press the trigger” because to me it seemed you “pulled” the trigger to fire a gun.  An instructor told him the word “press” denoted a more precise

published "Poetic Voices of America" Sparrowgrass collection, 1992 The river runs deep with forbidden secrets, leery of intrusion to a trusted few. Swirling past knowledge held sacred, the current utters in whisper to protect its truth. Mindful of nature's fruitful song, winged creature glides gracefully midst times reminiscent. All Mother's lore upon renaissance greeted; championship welcome, rejoicing flourishes to noble tune. The orb's brilliant glow sifts through the gaiety; nocturnal proclamation sings cheery note. With the wilderness' keepsake of promise, the river flows timeless. Embracing dawn's iridescent crystal hues -- held close, breathless for remembrance to savor. The beckoning river sparkles slivered images to crest anticipation, entices delightful with adventure to possess for the winged glider its sole crusador. by Patricia Joy-Frommer,  1990

Pausing only to take these photos, as I walked into the field searching for any spec of brown within my first line of sight.... so it went:   Bunches of these tiny blooms like God's paintbrush dappled across the field. Turkey roosting trees along either side bid me good morning;  3/4 mile walk into the valley, deer paths criss-cross through the grass that will soon yield green with more spring rains.   My photos never look as good as my eyes see nor smell as exhilarating as meadow grass.  I felt the excitement of turkey season upon me.  Sparkling sunshine mixed with cold blustery wind, so chilly I was sure glad I'd grabbed my knit winter cap and leather gloves for warmth. I set up just after sunrise to the left of the path (photo) under a small tree. Toms gobbling on both sides inside the timber, I tried calling, no luck.  I sat there till well after 10, then I moved deeper into the field.  On the right, I walked past a good sized pond noting some ripp