The Most Beautiful Thing in the World

            This very morning I ducked out of two of my classes to spend a few hours in the woods and fields. Up before the break of dawn, I was bound for a ten or fifteen minute trek across the corn field by our house, a walk that consisted of me constantly tripping over the rows of cut corn. In my journey to the hunting blind that my brother put together between two fields, I spooked a deer only to hear it run off, as it was too dark yet for me to see it. As I settled into the cold chair, I waited for light to break and visibility to just enough to fire a gun and not get hounded by the DNR.

            As I sat there, waiting, I experienced one of the most beautiful things that a person may ever experience: a crisp November sunrise. Nothing is more enjoyable than watching as the sun slowly peaks up over the dark tree line. You sit there, in the silence and cold, your breath leaving trails of steam drifting into the pastel sky, slowly noticing that your eye sight is either improving, or it is truly daylight on its ways. Before you know it, the darkness that cloaked you in a realm of privacy has given way to a light that exposes you to the world, and in return, exposes the whole world to you. Sunrise is quite magical in being a true time of awakening.

Why my Mom is the Best Mom Ever and What I Did

           Wednesday nights have been my night off of work for several months now, which is significant considering I never used to have a consistent schedule. Many of these Wednesdays I will spend a few hours with my mom, watching TV and talking about life. This is the time when we get to really connect and catch up. Our conversation had casually turned to deer (which is a huge and very common topic in our house right now) and I expressed to my mother the upset feelings I had over not being able to go out this year. Upon this, my mother directed me to bring her their cash and she gave me the fifteen dollars I needed to buy my hunting license. There is no doubt that my mother is the best mother in the world. Because of her, I get to go hunting this year, like all of the years before.

            In a rushed hour, I was ready for the woods. We hunted out on my boyfriend’s family’s property at the very back of a rugged, forested 80-acre parcel. I then continued to sit in a tree stand throughout the remaining two hours before dark. The stand I sat in was nothing more than a metal rack, perched some ten to fifteen feet in the air, with no supports and a steady wind against my back. Safety hazards aside, the view was gorgeous. Nothing but tall, majestic trees surrounded me and all that filled my ears were the occasional musical notes of the arriving winter birds.

And They Went Hunting (The Long Anticipated 15th of November)

            The weekend was a time of preparation. Shopping for last minute supplies and pulling the camouflage from the closets, my father and my brothers were getting ready for the fifteenth, opening day of firearm season. I honestly cannot remember opening day ever falling on a Monday before, but as time has it, this year it did. My brothers were given the day off of school in order to spend their morning and afternoon sitting in the field, but I didn’t get to go along.

            This year, due to financial reasons and time conflicts, I decided that I was not even going to buy my hunting license. It broke my heart to watch as they donned their gear and headed out into the dark morning to wait for the deer. I had never gone before without going out. In fact, I had been hunting practically every year since I could walk. I would run out in the shadow of my father, toy gun in hand, and sit there in my swishy snow pants and coat waiting; I was a little girl with a love for hunting formed at a young age. So, this year, to not even have the opportunity to go out, I was in a large amount of emotional pain. What was a girl like me to do without her yearly fill of hunting? The effects of college on my lifestyle have just become very realistic for me, sometimes you have to give up on one thing to maintain another.

A Cold Wind Blows

           As a long time Michigan native, the weather recently has been no shock. Our near-record highs have been absolutely wonderful, but really not all that unusual. This glorious warm-up, though a pure blessing, has created a terrible monster of me. I refuse to succumb to the winter coat. I deny my warm wooly hat, gloves, and scarf to laugh in the face of the cold old man winter as he approaches quickly upon us all. Maybe I’m putting way too much faith in my overestimated and overstrained immune system, but the resistance of a winter coat in a Michigan mid-November really has a thrilling aspect to it. How many people can flaunt that they can withstand the weather in Michigan, where it typically snows six months of the year, without their winter coat in the middle of November?
            But, for as much fun as this weather is creating for me, there is a growing pain within me. All of the trees have spilled their leaves and I am the one left crying over these spilled leaves. The sun shines less and the clouds loom over our bustling heads. As many people scurry about, I’m found within the crowd with my face turned to the sky, longing for my light to return. The next couple of months will bring less smiling and laughter from me, as I have never adapted well to the gray and white monochromatic landscape of winter. Where winter will make most people upset over temperatures, winter will make me upset in general, with no scapegoat to point to. When the snow begins falling this year (and actually sticks to the ground), I will be counting the days to spring, but until then I’ll be found wearing a frown for a greater portion of the day. Winter, you’re giving me wrinkles.