THE EASTERN HORIZON YESTERDAY EVENING, THE GOGEBIC RANGE IN THE DISTANCE
LARGE BUCK RUB ON A SUMAC BUSH...
Friday, 7:00 AM. 36 degrees, wind NE, light. The sky is overcast and the barometer predicts partly cloudy weather. It is a gray morning. The tundra swans have left Ashland for more predictable climes.
The signs of continuing or even worsening hard times are everywhere, with incipient inflation already evident on the grocery shelves. I think Joan and I can survive hard times, as we certainly know how, from watching our parents. They continually worked, scraped, stayed out of debt; gardened, canned, even when times were “good.”
One of my most persistent memories is of my father, sitting on a stump in the basement in front of the open fruit cellar door, drinking a beer. I was about 15. “Hey, Pa, watcha doin’?” I asked. “Surveying my wealth,” he replied. “When the fruit cellar shelves are full, I am a like a king in his counting house.”
A trip to my deer stand yesterday, just before dusk, revealed a large buck rub on a sumac bush. The freezer has a lot of room, and hope springs eternal.