November 16th, 2008
Thought I better come here first. With a time slot open this morning, there's no use in wasting it. Little Man is enjoying a Sunday morning movie. Sitting on the couch. Wearing big boy underwear. About ready to leak at any moment. He's not so good about the peeing thing. But he's getting better at the pooping, and practice makes perfect, so what's a little more laundry?
S.B. is making breakfast. She was preparing quite the feast when I went in there for coffee. Eggs, bacon, hasbrowns. Ah yes, I love Sunday mornings. So this entry will not be long. Only a little brain exercise, gut release, before we eat.
Fall is leaning more toward winter. Trees are nearly stripped bare. They are black and wiry against the white sky. Today there will be snow. It was heavy in the air when I walked out to feed the dog and cat. Definite snow making going on up in that sky. I've been breathing it since I was a kid, living up on The Ridge, and even though the air isn't as clean down here in the city, I cannot mistake the scent. The feeling. Makes me want to bundle up. Walk into the woods. Sit in a blind and watch it come. Not that I feel much like hunting these days. That urge has gone dormant. Is barely alive. But I would like to sit. In my old hunting blind. Small propane heater hissing flames. Blanket across my lap. Coffee in a thermos. Me alone with the woods. A book. A pencil and paper. Boy, I miss those days. Chickadees flying into the open window. Sitting on the sill. Only inches away. Cocking their heads from side to side. Checking me out. The loud jays squawking. Turkeys calling and scratching. Deer moving through the thick swamp and my ears tracking them. Sticks snapping. Leaves crackling. Long snorts and short grunts. And then, if I am attentive and still, they come. Out of the tree trunks. Out of the dead cattails. Out of the brush. Brown against brown. White tails twitching. Big ears rotating round.
But some days there would be nothing. No animals or sound. Only the eerie stillness of the woods in waiting. The air cool and heavy. Tree limbs wiry against the white sky. Me alone there. Watching, as scattered flakes began to fall. And always, it made me smile. Because there is comfort in knowing that the world keeps on turning. That the sun will rise and fall. That life goes on. With its rain and wind. Heat and ice. And there is something especially lasting about the tiny flakes swirling round, as I look out my window right now. Hear Little Man running to the kitchen and S.B. calling to me, Honey! Breakfast is done!
(copyright 2008 by K.J. Stevens)