April 26, 2024

All The Hungry Ladies

When we woke up on Friday morning, it was still dark outside. I came into the kitchen after washing up, and my wife had a pot of hot coffee ready to go. We took our cups outside and sat down to watch the sky light up. It was 42 degrees, but all the patio furniture was dry, signaling the humidity had dropped. I was happy the spring morning temperatures were still so cool.

We had a game we played with Kilo, where my wife and I acted like we were talking to each other, throwing words into our conversation that Kilo understood. There were words like “are you”, “hungry”, and “breakfast” that threw our smart girl into a state of excitement. Intending to tease our hungriest dog, I began talking to my wife in front of Kilo. I said, “Wow, I’m really HUNGRY this morning and I sure would like to EAT some BREAKFAST”. My wife didn’t catch the game and thought I was about to invite her to go eat breakfast. We laughed once we figured out my little game had fooled all the hungry ladies in our home.

My wife whipped up some waffles with peaches for breakfast. After, she sat down to study while I made some notes in my office. During this time, the exterminator arrived at the house, so we played musical dogs, trying to get them all put away before the dreaded knock on the door that would throw them into a barking frenzy. We were sure the gentleman was going to pull out dozens of dead mice from the traps below the house, but after twenty minutes, he came back to the front door with a single small, sad looking mouse. He asked if he could throw it into the woods and we concurred. Then he was off to his next pest emergency.

My wife studied for an hour, and I was still at my desk writing, when she called me to the deck with some sad news. Recently, our wren parents had rebuilt their nest under the pergola and were preparing for a brood of chicks. This morning, however, my wife discovered two eggs broken on the deck underneath the nest. The small white eggs with rust-colored speckles had cracked open and there was egg yolk, white, and red goo that appeared to be blood. We were heartbroken to see our wren parents lose their brood. We became attached to these two birds after witnessing them parent eight chicks last spring.

In the early afternoon, my wife put vegetables on the smoker for smoked salsa. She sent me to the store for a few items, so I drove to the Piggly Wiggly in Bailey to pick up pellets for the smoker, some spices, a suet block for the birds, and four packs of firewood they had on sale.

While checking out, the cashier asked me about the suet, which was advertised to attract woodpeckers. She asked, “Now why on God’s green earth would you want to attract woodpeckers? I’m trying to get them off my house”. I laughed, explaining that I took photographs of birds, and she told me about an article she read on how to scare away woodpeckers. The article prompted her to buy a fake owl and small Halloween bats to hang outside her house. I laughed at our different views of the situation.

She followed me out to my car and I assured her I didn’t mind loading the wood myself. But she whispered that the manager, who was standing outside arranging a sign, would “holler” if she didn’t. I told her to let me know if he hollered at her because I would holler back and give him what for. God, I loved living in the country.

After delivering the groceries to my wife, I changed shirts, grabbed my lucky fishing hat, which, by my definition, was any hat I had on while fishing. Ready to head out to the reservoir, I kissed my wife goodbye, only to be sent to her bathroom to apply sunscreen. I was a good boy and complied with her orders. I jumped in the car and drove off, but I turned around because I had forgotten my wedding ring, which I took off while putting on the sunscreen. After, I rushed out the door and headed to the lake, making a quick stop at the trash service center.

The reservoir was less busy than on a weekend. It was sunny and bright, with blue skies and intermittent clouds that were puffy and white. The wind was manageable and the weather warm. It was going to be a great fishing day. I made my way to the end of one pier and set up shop. On my first cast, I got a couple of bites, and within ten minutes, I had reeled in my first smallmouth bass.

About an hour in, I felt the sun burning the back of my neck, so I flipped my cap around so the visor would protect me. It was a peaceful time near the water. The reservoir was quiet except for the sound of small waves lapping against the pier. A pair of ducks flew right over me, their wings making a whizzing sound, cutting the air in their high-speed flight. It was impressive. I left Buckhorn after catching two smallmouth bass, two yellow sunfish, and one crappie. Spring fishing was back, and I was excited about this year’s season. 

I was happy to see my wife when I returned home. The dogs were also excited to see me and they loved smelling my hands, dirty from handling earthworms and fish. My wife showed me a base she found for the outdoor umbrella. It was so small and sleek and perfect, kind of like her. She was finishing up the smoked salsa and preparing food. Once she came to a stopping point, we walked into the forest together.

The sky clouded, and the woods felt cool, almost cold. I had just been battling the sun without a hint of shade, and now, thirty minutes later, the weather was completely different. We made our way down the trails, over to Beaver Tooth Rock. As we approached the large boulder, we heard something crashing down from a tree. It was a squirrel that had fallen, catching a low, flexible limb at the last moment.

My wife told me the wrens were back in the nest and we wondered if they were laying more eggs. I speculated the birds knew the eggs weren’t viable and had pushed them out. There were also birds who laid eggs in occupied nests, hoping the hosts would hatch their young. Maybe the broken eggs didn’t belong to the wren. The description matched wren eggs, but nature had a way of being sly. Invading birds often had eggs that looked similar to the host’s, another effort to fool them.

Back at the house, we sat on the deck and drank one beer together. An eastern bluebird flew up into a tree in front of us. Soon after, a red cardinal landed next to the bird. Then another bluebird arrived. I giggled, telling my wife the Bloods and Crips were about to throw down. We ate fish tacos outside and talked about the upcoming week. My wife would be gone during the weekdays for the next month, but back home on weekends.

Although we disliked being apart, there was no alternative, and this was the last rotation this would happen. I felt optimistic. Exhausted from all the yard work, walking, and outdoor activities, we showered and went to bed, my wife arriving in our bedroom about an hour before me. When I slipped into bed, I pulled her close, knowing that in a few days, she’d be gone. 

April 25, 2024

Trail Blazers

The morning started with a cup of coffee. After, we got dressed and headed to the car. We were going to Lake Wilson for a morning walk, something we loved to do anytime we had the opportunity. I slept well and felt rested, and I was in good spirits as we pulled off the property onto the main road. In the middle of the street, a deer was trying to get off the road, but its hooves had no traction on the slick concrete. I slowed down and gave it time to find its footing and it crossed into the woods.

At the lake, the weather was clear, and the sky was blue with small, puffy cumulus clouds that looked like cotton balls. There was no wind, and the lake was like a large piece of smooth glass with wispy smoke rising from the water. Every morning at Lake Wilson was beautiful, but conditions like today made the place look sublime.

We saw two beavers dive, leaving a long wake on the surface of the water as they swam beneath. In front of us, Bella and Houdini walked their humans around trails. We caught up with them and stopped to say hello. All dogs and humans were in a good mood. There were two herons out this morning, one standing against the bank, almost out of sight, and the other just south of the bridge. This heron was larger and wading in the water, looking for breakfast. The still waters reflected the long wooden bridge, and all the greenery of the trees and shrubs, which were now lush and full.

About halfway around the loop, we ran into Callie, a large golden retriever, and her human. We talked for a minute or two about the pleasant conditions, highlighting the mirrored water and fog. He told us about last summer when the water had plummeted to record low levels. He said everything looked strange, like the surface of the moon with deer walking around the terrain where the water once stood. From the bridge, we saw a lone cormorant swim and then dive underwater. There were also two turtles perched on a log, waiting for the sun. By the time we finished the two-mile loop, we were both hungry.

Breakfast at the Cracker Barrel was delicious, as always. Since we were already in Wilson, we drove to Lidl, where we did some grocery shopping for the next few days. When we went to pay, I realized my wallet was in the car, inside my small sling back that carried my point and shoot Ricoh GRIIIx camera. My wife used her card to pay for the groceries and the female cashier quipped, “Ya’’ll men need to stop leaving your wallets at home!”. We all laughed, but I had just dodged a $165 grocery bill. Who’s laughing now? I mean, all the money still came from the same place, but I counted it as a win.

When we arrived home, I was sleepy from breakfast so I took a quick half hour nap. My wife went outside and mowed a section of the yard, which completed the entire front yard and pasture. The property looked well maintained. While having a snack together, we moved to study and write under the pergola, sitting together on the outdoor sofa. I broke off to make a few phone calls. One for a follow-up dental appointment and another to request the extermination service come and remove something dead from underneath the house. Three weeks ago, they placed poison in the crawlspace and this week; a foul smell was coming into the house near the washer and dryer.

My wife and I changed clothes, put on our work boots and gloves, grabbed a rake and sheers, and headed out the door to work on the trails. Today, we wanted to work on the west side of the property. We started with that area first, as it had an old trail that nobody had cleaned in years. We spent over an hour raking and snipping. When we had extended the trail halfway to the house, we walked back to our front yard and started clearing a new trail that would connect to the old trail we had just finished. This part of the property had no paths and required us to cut trees, vines, and briars while we navigated through the forest, choosing the path of least resistance.

The area near the house was beautiful and looked unique. It was full of large cedar trees and rocks and logs covered in bright green mosses. The entrance to the new trailhead was a secret path into the woods from the west side of the front yard. The trailhead was not visible unless you walked through a small hole hidden in the tree line. While blazing a new trail, we found an old telescope. We found it in the middle of the woods, with its tube dented and all the parts scattered around the area. I wondered how long it had been there. After another few hours of working, we stopped at three o’clock. I was exhausted.

We took a break on the back porch, drinking cold water and re-energizing with fresh strawberries and a fresh bag of Cheetos. The salty flavor was just what I needed. After catching my breath, cooling off, hydrating, and getting a little salt in my body, I came back to life. Clearing trails was hard work! We were so dirty, we both showered, even though we planned to be out by the fire later. I put on shorts, a tee shirt, and flip-flops. Then I sat down to sip an icy beer while my wife relaxed in the hammock.

She tried to get Kilo to jump into the hammock, and when she did, they both lost their balance. Kilo jumped off, leaving my wife to spill out on the floor. We laughed hard. She tried the same thing with Axel, who instinctively lied down and stayed still. We thought it was a success, but keeping Axel still for longer than a few seconds was an obstacle in itself. After ten seconds, he jumped out of the hammock and grabbed a piece of firewood to chew on. Koda jumped into the hammock with my wife like a pro. He had plenty of hammock experience with my wife back in Texas.

We made burgers on the Traeger and ate outdoors. After, we took a quick walk through the woods. From the edge of the pine grove, we spotted a deer feeding on the north side of the crop field. The wind was blowing in our favor, so it never detected us. Soon, we were all run out of the area by a large farm vehicle driving up and down the crop field at high speeds. I wasn’t sure what they were doing. We walked to Beaver Tooth Rock and then alongside the creek where my wife cast spells over the little fish, you know, the exact thing I did yesterday when she pronounced my weirdness.

When we arrived at the new trail, my wife turned to me and asked, “Shall we?” We walked up the new trail, finally connecting to the path that lead to the secret entrance outside our house. The forest in this area looked mysterious, and we were proud of our work. When we arrived home, I cut wood like a caveman and started a fire while my wife cleaned the kitchen. After, we sat outside talking, waiting for the stars to come out. She asked me to read this journal to her, and I read three entries from March, ending with the catching of her first fish. She went inside to clean up and I broke down the fire. After a shower, I slipped into bed, ready to recuperate from the day’s hard work.

April 24, 2024

Catfished

In this day and age of technology, nobody was safe, not even if you lived in the woods. Google defined catfishing as “luring someone into a relationship with a fictional persona”. Today, I found out I got catfished, but more on that later. 

I loved waking up on a weekday morning that I had off work. My wife and I drank hot lattes while I fidgeted with a dry morning cough. After we ingested the caffeinated goodness, we changed clothes and headed out the front door, walking to the main road. My wife packed some cat food in case we ran into Garbage, our favorite neighborhood cat. To our dismay, he was not out prowling in his usual hunting grounds, two enormous fields near the north end of the road.

When we arrived home from our walk, my wife made two fruit smoothies while I did the dishes and helped clean the kitchen. After guzzling down my breakfast, I went to the backyard to pick up dog poop. The morning was sunny with a cool breeze, perfect weather for being outdoors. Once I cleaned the yard, my wife sat down to study and I went to my office to write.

Today, we had plans to drive into Raleigh for a dental appointment. While in the city, we wanted to check out a small bookstore a few miles from the dentist’s office. The temperature still felt a little cold, but the weather had warmed. My wife and I grabbed our boots, put on some bug spray and headed out the front door for a morning walk through the woods.

We walked on the trails heading north toward the creek, hoping to find two impressive turtles we spotted yesterday. Walking stealthily, we neared the creek, and when we were about thirty yards from the bank, a large blue heron took flight. The enormous waterfowl was a muted blue and gray color and its long wings beat slowly as the bird flapped in large strokes. The heron flew west, circling back toward us and then flew north out of our view. We found no turtles.

When we arrived back at the house, I went back to finish my writing session. My wife later called me, telling me that lunch was ready, so I washed my hands and met her on the deck. We ate a delicious salad with homemade ranch dressing and fried chicken tenders. While we were eating, we solved a longstanding mystery we had investigated for years. Sven, the elusive Norwegian sounding bird, finally showed his face, and the revelation was both surprising, dumbfounding, and perhaps a little hurtful.

There was a bird we named Sven that had a very peculiar song that sounded like a Norwegian accent that went “ferde-ferde-ferde-ferde”. We heard this call last spring and summer, but never spotted the elusive bird. I did a lot of research on the internet, identifying local songbirds, but I never encountered an example of Sven’s song. Then, in late fall, the song disappeared, and the bird seemed to be gone with it. A few weeks ago, I heard the song for the first time this year, and we knew Sven was back.

We had been working hard to find Sven. We heard his song often and looked up in trees, but the bird never came near and we never saw what kind of bird it was. There were cardinals, wrens, finches, chickadees, and tufted titmice all around, but Sven continued to evade us. Then, a few days ago, my wife developed a crazy theory. She postulated Sven was actually a cardinal. Nonsense, I screamed, swiping all the papers off the desk in a rage. Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but this was no cardinal. I had watched cardinals on videos and studied them in person and I was very familiar with their song. But it was undeniable that the pitch and tone of Sven and the cardinal sounded alike.

Then it happened. Sven’s song sounded out today while we were on the deck eating lunch. The song was loud; close by. Sitting halfway down the bough of a large pine tree, we found Sven. We watched him intently, making sure the sound was coming from this bird, and it was clear the bird opened its orange beak and pushed air out of its lungs to the exact beat of the “ferde-ferde-ferde-ferde” song. I had so many questions. Sven was a male cardinal.

We saw the cardinals all year long. These birds were not migratory. Why did this specific song of the cardinal only appear in spring and summer? And why did they stop singing it in the colder months? Inquiring minds wanted to know. It was all a little shocking. Sven had been right under our noses the whole time. Last month, I even shot several photographs and videos of the same bird for which I had searched for so long. It was in that moment that I realized I had been catfished; by a bird.

The drive into Raleigh was interesting. While I had lived in several large cities, the sheer number of people and cars seemed alien. A part of me remembered the city environment and behavior. After all, I was a part of this lifestyle for most of my life. Yet, the memories of these experiences felt distant, very distant. They felt more like memories of a previous lifetime than something I used to take part in. These days, being back on the grid in a large city felt overly loud, busy, and abrasive.

We arrived at the dentist’s office, close to downtown Raleigh, about thirty minutes early. The office was closed to the public until our appointment time, so we waited in the car as my wife read a journal entry from a few months ago. It was fun to remember the details of a specific day. How quickly we forget all the brief moments life comprised. The dentist and her staff were very nice, and they showed their expertise. I was happy we found the Raleigh Comprehensive and Cosmetic Dentistry and I would recommend them to anyone in the area.

After getting the old chompers inspected and cleaned up, we visited a small bookstore in Raleigh named So And So Books. Just walking into the place, with its scent of fresh paper and book covers, gave me goosebumps. I read a lot, but I hadn’t stepped into a bookstore since before Covid. Although the place was small, I left with two field guides specific to North Carolina, one identifying trees, and the other, birds. I loved learning about the flora and fauna on the property, and I was excited to get detailed information about my area.

We drove back toward the house, stopping in Knightdale for some scotch guard for the outdoor cushions and ate lunch at Saltgrass. After being gone for several hours, we were ready to be back in the country. When we arrived home, the dogs were happy to see us, and I must say the feeling was mutual. After we gave the dogs some outdoor time, we needed to decompress by getting back out into the woods.

My boots kept snapping small twigs along the trail, causing my wife to turn back, giving me one of two looks. One face looked like I had given away our location to the enemy force while trying to escape from their prison camp. The other look was more of a mother looking at a small child asking, “Really?” We arrived at Beaver Tooth Rock and sat down. A large pileated woodpecker flew up into a tall dead tree in front of us, perfectly backlit by the setting sun. The bird thumped rapidly on the tree as if displaying its impressive skills and then flew off. 

Near the creek, I spotted a turtle by a tree, just under the surface of the water. It dove out of sight once it detected our movement. I raised my hands repeatedly toward the water, and small fish would scatter, making the water roil. My wife laughed at me, muttering under her breath that I was so weird. I looked at her and we both laughed because we knew the truth. It took a weirdo to recognize a weirdo, and my wife was the king of weird. Oddly enough, she was also the king of cute. Spending time with my wife this evening took away the sting of being catfished by Sven, or whatever his real name was.

April 23, 2024

Turtles and Pink Slippers

The morning was reminiscent of our first year here in Sims, North Carolina. After drinking our cups of coffee while chatting on the couch, we put on some warm clothes and walked to the main road. Our house was in the middle of a two-mile road, which had stop signs on both ends. There was little traffic, and the street was flat in some areas with a large hill in the middle. The creek, which ran through our property sat at the bottom of the hill. During our first year here, we walked this road daily.

The morning walk was beautiful. While we weren’t out on Lake Wilson, the small rural town was still scenic, with its few homes and large tracts of land. Songbirds sang and flew about. The crisp air made the grasses, covered in morning dew, steam as it interacted with the warm earth. The creek had a thin layer of fog floating just above its surface.

When we returned to the house, I sat down to write while sipping on a second cup of coffee. Then I took a shower and got ready for work. While today was Tuesday, it was my Friday since I would take off the rest of the week while my wife was off school for spring break. I got busy, trying to do as much work as possible, to ease my upcoming Monday morning workload, when I returned to work after being off. Daily, I probably wrote forty emails, received a hundred, and read through at least one hundred pages of reports. Sometimes, returning to work after a break felt like a punishment. But, hey, I never minded standing in the rain, as the old country song went.

During a short morning break, my wife and I ate a small piece of pie together. I went back to work while she disappeared into the woods. A few hours later, I took a quick break and walked into the woods while my coffee brewed. I found my wife sitting down on a trail, covered in sweat and bug spray. She had cleared the trail that lead from the back of our house to one of my tree stands. This connected to the trails we cleared last week. She even cleared a minor detour which lead to the stand’s ladder.

While starting a new trail, my wife found a hidden spot in the woods covered with wild orchids in full bloom. I looked them up, and they were called Pink Lady’s Slippers. They were exquisite and the small area seemed secretive, hiding a small patch of soft pink in a sea of drab colors. We talked for a few minutes and then I headed to an online meeting.

I closed my computer during my lunch break and went outside to sit down. My wife told me lunch was ready and that we would eat outside on the deck. I set the table, and she brought out two large salads with freshly grilled skirt steak. The Traeger was still smoking. Lunch was amazing, especially when sitting outdoors and hanging out with my best friend. It was the type of lunch break that made the work day easier.

After eating, I still had time to burn, so my wife took me down the trails to show me all the work she had done. Then we continued north until we came to the creek area. To our surprise, we saw a turtle sunning on a log. When it noticed us, it splashed down into the water and disappeared. Last year, we saw a small turtle on a trail, but this was the first turtle we saw at the creek.

The turtle on the trail had streaks of bright yellow in its shell, but today’s turtle was mostly a brownish-green. Its shell was slightly oval, but mostly round. We inspected the water, but saw nothing through the murk except for a trail of small air bubbles. Excited by our new find, my wife looked over the rest of the creek and spotted a huge turtle exiting the water and crawling through the mud.

This enormous turtle, slightly greener than the first, had a shell that almost looked rectangular, although the corners were certainly rounded. It stepped through the mud like a prehistoric dinosaur, almost robotic in its movement. In one moment, it hunkered down low against the brown mud, and in the next, it had vanished. While seeing the first turtle was exciting, this second turtle was so large that we talked about it for the rest of the day. This place never ceased to amaze us.

After the turtle dove under water, we turned to continue down the trail and a large hawk plummeted from the sky down to the area where we stood. It let out a loud cry that startled us. We laughed and kept moving, working our way around a large loop that eventually led us back home. My wife walked to the pasture and rested in the hammock, shaded by twelve pines. After a few hours, I went out to check on her, hoping she was napping. Unsurprisingly, she was sitting in the hammock, wide awake, studying. I really loved her discipline.

I closed my computer at 6:15 PM. The workday and week, was over. My wife was happy I was off and she promptly put me to work cutting wood for a fire. She had the Traeger fired up; dinner smelled great. I split wood, which allowed me to release physical tension by hitting something at full force without going to jail. All joking aside, cutting wood reminded me of kendo practice, taking me back to my time in Tokyo, roaming from dojo to dojo, learning lessons I still carried today.

I started a fire and my wife served up grilled fish and vegetables, which included grilled zucchini, Brussel sprouts, and broccoli. To my surprise, the broccoli was the tastiest of the greens, as its small florets seemed to soak up the marinade used to season them. The fish and vegetables paired nicely with a side of steamed white rice.

After dinner, we sat and relaxed by the fire, talking about the next few days we had off together. Then my wife went inside to bathe while I threw more wood on the fire and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. It was nice to have a quiet evening. The thought of not working until Monday sounded good, even though my boss and team texted me throughout the evening about an issue they were trying to resolve. After my wife finished bathing, I went inside, did the dishes, took a shower, and went to bed. A small vacation would start tomorrow morning, and I was ready to embrace it.

April 22, 2024

Bella And The Great Houdini

The temperature was in the low forties when I awoke. After a cup of coffee, my wife and I bundled up and headed out to the truck. In the pasture's corner, near the tree line, stood a lone doe watching us. She stared as we got into the vehicle, remaining still as we drove off. As we headed down the dirt road, a cardinal shot out in front of us. A pair of rabbits stood lost in conversation and then sprinted off toward an enormous field when we got too close.

It was twilight, and the drive to Lake Wilson was beautiful. The sky was lit in a soft orange color, with a bright yellow halo forming where the sun would soon rise. The weather reports called for a cloudy start to the day, but the skies told us it would be clear and bright. When we arrived at the lake, we jumped out of the truck, hit our stop watches and headed south around the trail on the east side of the lake.

The water looked black and ominous as it flowed over the dam into the creek. The flowers were in bloom, and the wildlife was active. Several squirrels were awake, gathering their morning meal. We saw our first blue heron within minutes, seeing four of the large birds by the time our walk ended. At the southeast tip of the trail, a large hawk landed on a fencepost, perching as we neared it. It was a large red-tailed hawk with sharp eyes and talons. Raptors had an air about them. They always looked elegant, but fierce.

In the water by the bridge, three geese honked loudly, their cacophony sounding like a large flock. They were boisterous and kept flying at each other, skimming their webbed feet across the water like tiny water skis. On the lake’s west side, near an inlet that connected to a creek, a family of mallards neared the bank. The mother and father tended to five small ducklings, as they waddled into the water single file, swimming close to their mother. They patiently stayed about three feet away in the water until we passed by. I wasn’t sure if there were any birds cuter than a tiny duckling.

Near the end of the trail, we ran into three men and two dogs that we met when taking daily walks at the lake during the holiday season. Of course, we didn’t know the people’s names, but little Bella and large Houdini were dogs we loved to see. Bella, a small white poodle, was always excited, jumping on us with her featherweight body hidden by her curly hair, leaving small, sandy paw prints on my pants. Houdini was a large bulldog and waddled like his owner. His tail beat furiously in response to my wife’s high-pitched excitement. This morning, he sported a fancy orange harness that shaved a few years off his looks. It did not shave off any pounds.

By the time we arrived at the car, we were both hungry. My wife thought we didn’t have time to eat before I started work. I looked at my watch and completed the calculations, and then we drove to Cracker Barrel, where I enjoyed a small breakfast. The food came out super fast and although we took our time; I arrived home a half hour before I needed to jump in the shower. Today’s walk reminded me that Lake Wilson was a great way to start the day.

My wife left for Lowes to look for plants and washed and vacuumed my SUV. She also purchased a new air freshener that made the vehicle smell good. She returned with an assortment of small plants and flowers, all exquisite in their own right. Later, she arranged them in an old metal bucket that had been on the property for years. The arrangement looked so fancy and well designed. My wife always told me she was not creative, but that was not true. The flower arrangement now sat on our rear deck where we could see it while spending time outdoors.

As I worked in my office, my wife lied down in a hammock she set up in the pasture near the pines. There she rested, falling asleep. I brought her a blanket, and she napped for over an hour, which was really rare for her. I was happy she found a place where she could comfortably rest. Naps made the world go around. 

While walking back to the house, I looked in two holes in the ground, left by posts we removed last year. Each hole housed a black widow spider, one with a large white egg sack. The black spiders looked glossy, with their thin legs moving independently, giving the spiders a creepy appearance. My mind flashed back to my childhood, when I used to catch black widows and keep them in a jar. When my mother discovered I had kept the venomous monsters as pets, she was horrified. I told my wife about the spiders and asked her not to get rid of them until I photographed them.

During lunch break, we had a slice of chocolate chess pie and I made a cappuccino for my wife. She showed me our garden, where she planted the new plants we purchased yesterday. The garden sported a fire pit where I could attach a grill and hot plate to cook over a wood fire. I was excited we would spend time in this area. After working in the garden, my wife told me we were making burgers and having a fire tonight. Then she disappeared into her bathroom to take a shower. Suddenly, Monday felt like a weekend.

After work, I shut down my computer and headed into the kitchen where my wife was prepping dinner. I was excited because she made the best burgers, smashing small bits of garlic, spices, and cheese directly into the hamburger patties. She also prepared homemade sweet potato fries in the air fryer. I grabbed my work gloves, went outside, and started chopping wood for the fire. When I finished, I came into the house to get some water, admitting to my wife the stress relief and sheer satisfaction of cutting wood at full force. It felt spectacular.

I started a fire in the pit while my wife fired up the Traeger. We threw the patties onto the grill and sat outside, doing what we did best: relaxing and talking about our day, life, and solutions to all the world’s problems. When the burgers were done, we ate outside by the fire, staying warm as the outdoor air cooled. The burgers were mouthwatering, and we both contorted our faces, expressing our sheer delight with each delicious bite. 

When dinner was over, we threw more firewood in the pit and turned off the music. Listening to nature, we tried to identify different bird songs and the location of a woodpecker tapping on a tree. After soaking in the silence for half an hour, I grabbed the fire poker and broke down the remaining coals. It was time to go back inside the house. After feeding the dogs, my wife and I sat down at the dining room table to study and write. The normalcy of having her home, of being in the routines we carefully chose, of enjoying spring both individually and as a couple, was perfect.

April 21, 2024

A Quiet Day

When my watch woke me up at 6:30 AM on Sunday morning, my wife was already out of bed. I made my way to the living room where she sat with Koda and Axel, wishing them a good morning. It was cloudy outside, and the forecast called for rain all day. My wife whipped up two cappuccinos, and we sat outside sipping them until the rain drove us back indoors. The view, with the dark sky and glowing green forest wet from the rain, was beautiful. It had all the makings of a lazy day.

When the rain slowed, we took Koda into the woods for a walk. Although the forest appeared dark, it was not gloomy. The wet leaves on the trees, which had grown thick, glowed brightly, making the place look magical. The air was comfortable and cool, a reminder from nature that days like today were good for slowing our pace and catching our breath.

We entered the grove on the trails, which were soft with a thin layer of mud. The bright white eggs still sat on the dark soil and the apples, wet from the rain, looked deep crimson. Something had taken bites of different sizes out of the remaining apples. Ears of corn were scattered about but left untouched. The French bread, the entire loaf, was gone.

Koda ran around in his florescent orange vest, excited to be out in the woods. In one area on the trail lied hundreds of tiny white flowers, small enough to fit four of them on my thumbnail. The tiny flowers covered a nearby spider web, taking on the web’s geometric shape. When we arrived at Beaver Tooth Rock, Koda climbed down the side of the boulder and explored the creek bed while my wife and I looked on. It was a beautiful day, and we felt appreciative of having access to this beautiful land. We romped through the forest, arriving back at the house, ready to continue on with our day.

For breakfast, my wife ate a bowl of oatmeal she made in the pressure cooker. I had a bowl of spicy ramen served with the remaining pork spare ribs I had smoked on the Traeger. After breakfast and morning chores, my wife put on her apron and got busy with one of her favorite hobbies: baking. She made homemade pie crust and then baked two chocolate chess pies from scratch. I stood near the counter watching her. She looked adorable and scrumptious in her baking attire. While she continued baking, I went to my office to write.

There were many things I loved about having my wife at home. While not the main reason, one added benefit was the amazing food she cooked. My wife threw together a large salad with strips of skirt steak we grilled yesterday while cooking salmon. The salad greens, steak, and a healthy serving of homemade ranch dressing made the meal pop.

During a break from writing, we left for a quick trip to the Piggly Wiggly to get some heavy whipping cream to make topping for the chess pies. One pie would stay with us, while the other would go to a neighbor who installed a new back door on our house last year. He lived down the road in a house next door to his daughter, who raised goats and chickens. While at the Pig, we grabbed ten plants to put in our garden, consisting of bell pepper, cucumber, habanero, cayenne, and several species of tomato plants.

When we arrived home, my wife made some whipped cream, and we each ate a slice of pie. It was delicious. While we ate, I began looking at my wife’s next bed-and-breakfast, where she would stay next week. After, we went for another walk, this time with Axel.

Axel, a sweet and very smart dog, enjoyed playing hide and seek in the woods. My wife and I took turns hiding, and Axel knew exactly what to do. While most untrained search dogs searched by sight, Axel was good at using his nose, catching our scent cones, and then zeroing in on our location. He looked so serious, staring with his piercing eyes as he rushed up. It was a good time and helped burn off some of Axel’s Malinois energy.

It was one of those rare days when my wife and I both felt tired. She had just finished a rotation after being away from home and today’s weather was gloomy, all contributing to our tiredness. For dinner, we drove into Wilson to pick up a pepperoni pizza from Armando’s. Although we both felt drained, we were in good spirits and looking forward to the week since my wife was off and I had a two-day work week.

My wife jumped into the tub earlier than usual and I went into the forest for last light. It was still drizzling, and the air felt damp and cold. I made my way to Beaver Tooth Rock, where I sat in the rain, watching the forest, preparing my mind for my return to work. It was quiet, with only one bird chirping in the distance. The pitter patter of raindrops falling on the overgrown vegetation was the only other sound I heard.

An occasional gust of wind blew through, shaking all the leaves, causing them to drop the water they collected. During these moments, the light rainfall transformed into a momentary downpour, softening again after the wind passed. A large pileated woodpecker flew by me and landed in a tree, but it, too, remained silent. Satisfied that all was quiet, both inside and out, I made my way back to the house to shower and sleep.

April 20, 2024

Spring Saturday

I woke up feeling rested and ready for a cup of coffee. The morning brew would have to wait, however. We had an emergency in the house: my wife woke up hungry, starving. Like a firefighter preparing for the quick departure out of the station to go face the flames, I got dressed as fast as I could before sprinting out the door to the truck. I was hungry too.

The drive to Wilson was picturesque. Various shades of black and white filled the sky with dramatic clouds, while a thick fog enveloped the entire area. The scenery brought a calm but slightly eerie feeling. The pleasant sight of colorful flowers, however, broke the monotone drabness of the fog and clouds. Whether people planted them in their yards or they were wildflowers planted by nature, the drive revealed a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors of myriad flowers. The trip was quiet, and there were barely any cars on the roads to and from the restaurant.

On the way home, we turned down the main paved road that lead to our property and spotted a familiar friend, Garbage. Garbage was a small, long-haired, gray outdoor cat that my wife always stopped to pet. She named the cat Garbage after an episode of The Office. I pulled the car onto the shoulder and turned off the engine. As soon as my wife got out of the car, Garbage sprinted toward her with its tail up in the air. Garbage loved my wife and the treats she had brought. Both of our cars always had cat treats packed away, specifically for this occasion. After they said their hellos, my wife got back into the car and we completed the drive home.

When we arrived, we found the culprit responsible for the fragrant floral aromas in the area. The chinaberry trees on the property were in full bloom with their lilac-colored flowers. These trees were on the west side of the tree line, growing as tall as fifty and sixty feet high. There was also a large chinaberry on the north and east sides of our backyard. Together, the blossoming trees emanated an intoxicatingly sweet smell.

My wife took the dogs outside and then called me shortly after. Koda found a baby rabbit bedded down near a shed. It was a miracle the mutts hadn’t killed it. I passed my leather work gloves to my wife, and she carefully picked up the tiny kit, which was the size of a large hamster. She carried the small creature until it unexpectedly jumped from her hands. My wife let out a shrill and the tiny rabbit we thought was too young to move on its own sprinted away, running as fast as an adult rabbit. We laughed and felt relieved the bunny was going to be okay. If it had not frozen when the dogs found it and tried to run, they would have certainly killed it. Nature’s wisdom was always showing her face. While checking the fence area where the rabbit escaped, we found our first signs of honeysuckle growing. My wife was thrilled.

While walking around the yard, we stopped by the garden area we built last year. The garden beds were full of lettuce and arugula that sprouted up. Soon, we would plant vegetables in the raised beds. Near the garden gate, my wife spotted a large earthworm. I grabbed it and threw it inside one of my worm bins. They could probably use some fresh DNA. To my surprise, the vegetable scraps in the worm bins were completely gone. A few weeks ago, they were full of food.

My wife and I took a walk through the forest, bringing Kilo along with us. She was super excited and sported a bright florescent orange vest my wife had recently purchased. As soon as we entered the grove, we heard deer in the woods. Kilo went stiff, smelling the air, and then gave chase. She’s almost eight, but ran off like a spry puppy. I was surprised by how far I could see her bright vest through the woods. After a few minutes, she came back huffing and puffing, but ready to blow the house down.

We walked a hundred yards and another herd of deer was somewhere east of us. Kilo shot into the woods like a bullet. When she returned, she was out of breath and her tongue had grown several inches. Near the creek, where there are large tulip trees, my wife found a whole tulip tree flower on the ground. I had found single petals, but never an entire blossom. She set the flower into the deep creek water where it floated, looking like a lotus. We saw several other types of flowers on the way back home. I forgot how interesting spring was, and how quickly the forest changed.

After we arrived home, my wife made iced lattes, and we sat out on the deck sipping them, my wife in the hammock and me in a chair. The dogs were outside, running around the yard. It was a quiet, lazy day. After the sun’s brightness had wearied my eyes, we moved inside, where my wife made a shopping list while I dozed off with Bodhi, my head resting on his dog bed.

My wife left to shop for groceries while I raided the old produce from the refrigerator. There was lettuce, carrots, and several cucumbers, which I cut into small pieces, placing all the food in a plastic bag. After I carried the bag to the worm bins and spread the vegetables evenly among the three bins. This would give them plenty of food for the next couple of weeks. I went inside the house, grabbed a ball cap, my folding knife, and headed to my car with plans of doing a little fishing at Buckhorn Reservoir.

I drove into Kenly to Papa Jack’s, where I usually bought snacks and modest fishing supplies. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, however, I remembered an article in the local newspaper that said Buckhorn was going to be closed for a boat racing event. I pulled up the information on my iPhone and found out that the race was scheduled for this weekend. The lake would be closed until Monday. I considered driving into Wilson to fish at the Wiggins Mill Reservoir, but decided it was a little late. I opted to go back to the house, where I planned to do a little work, hoping to earn a cold beer in the evening.

After grabbing my headphones and work gloves, I jumped onto the riding mower and began cutting the grass in the pasture. When my wife arrived home with the groceries, I drove the mower to the house and parked it so I could help her unload. After, I went back to mowing, riding for another hour before the gas ran out. I refilled the tank with a gas can I kept in the barn and kept mowing, finishing the pasture, and then calling it quits. From now until fall, we would need to cut sections regularly to prevent the grasses from growing out of control.

When I got back to the house, I drank some cold water and then sat down with a cup of coffee and pastry my wife brought back from the store. After, we took some things my wife bought to the grove for the animals. There were several ears of corn, a bag of apples, and eggs. We also took a whole loaf of French bread we never got around to eating. After we arranged all the food in the forest, we continued walking along the trails.

The forest was quiet as we made our way toward Beaver Tooth Rock. My wife found another tulip tree flower and placed it in the creek beside the first flower, which was still floating. When we got to the large boulder, we sat down, communicating in whispers. After a few minutes, we heard a movement in the woods and saw two deer drifting slowly through the ravine. They never barked or ran. After, we made our way back to the house, fending off the spider webs we walked into, despite using a long stick to ward them off. My wife walked through a web and a spider landed on her back. Without thinking, I watched my hand reach out quickly, grab the spider, and toss it off to the side. Reflexive instincts seemed to operate outside of my conscious control, probably a good survival trait for humans to have.

In the evening, we sat outdoors, taking in the amazing smells of the chinaberry blossoms while cooking salmon and skirt steak on the grill. I finally got my cold beer, which I guzzled down with delight, while watching a pair of blue herons fly over the forest. We ate dinner outdoors and then walked a few laps around the freshly mowed pasture. After, my wife took a bath while I wrote before taking a shower and crawling into bed beside her, ending a perfect and typical spring Saturday.

April 19, 2024

Wild Thing

Happy Friday. I woke up early, excited that my wife would be home later today. Engrossed in my morning routine, I fed the dogs, did laundry, washed dishes, and vacuumed the house. I also grabbed my wife’s laundry and towels from her bathroom because I liked her to have everything clean when she arrived home. When I finished, I took a short walk into the woods.

My wife called me as I was walking out the front door. She was eating at a Cracker Barrel in Durham and I was happy she finally admitted how good their sausage tasted. After breakfast, she drove to her graduate program building and took a major exam. I gave her my normal exam advice, which included two steps. One: Read the question. Two: Choose the right answer. She always laughed, knowing that my advice was half joking, but neither of us could deny it was a winning strategy.

The forest was quiet, and I quipped that nature was not acting like it was Friday. Of course, today was just another day during earth’s billions of years of existence. Just because I was alive enjoying the day and giving it a valuation, didn’t mean it was actually more or less important that any other day. When I arrived home, I took a shower and started working.

The morning was busy and before I knew it, my wife texted me saying she was done with her exam, that it was really hard, and that she would be out of classes around 3:30 PM. She hoped to be home by five. We were both very excited. A few hours after lunch, my wife texted she was on her way. We used a phone app to track each other’s location for safety. This app lead to a habit of me sitting outside on the front stoop anytime she pulled up into the drive. We would wave and each other, smiling big, and I would ponder in amazement that this human being who was so cool somehow ended up being my wife. We were happy to see each other and embraced in a long, ecstatic hug. She always brought so much energy to our home. The dogs lost their shit when they realized mama was back.

A little before I finished work, my wife came to my office to tell me she received her exam results. She did very well, as always. Even though she made excellent grades, her graduate program was so demanding that before an exam, she never quite knew how she would fare. After twenty-one months of constant exams, however, I felt she probably had it all figured out. About ten minutes after I shut down my work computer, we left the house to go for a walk at the lake before eating dinner.

We arrived at Lake Wilson for the first time in a long while. Dressed in our street clothes and ready for dinner, we raced the two-mile loop just like we did every morning during the holiday break. When we exited our SUV, it was drizzling, but the rain soon ended. The temperature was balmy and the air humid. I thought the water level looked high for this time of year. We started the trail by walking on the east side that borders the lake and several homes. All along the trail, there were flowers of every color planted on both sides of the path. There were large and small flowers in white, pink, lavender, and yellow. The walk down the path was visually appealing and satisfying to our noses.

The water looked different to me. It was dark, with a slight greenish tint, possibly from the color cast by the surrounding vegetation. We stopped near the bank to inspect movements in the water. There was a school of small fish near the bank and their dorsal fins made the water’s surface bend and break. I hid behind a tree to watch them and when the fish stopped moving; I jumped out toward the bank, causing the fish to scatter while the water roiled with their movements.

When we arrived at the Lake Wilson Bridge, the water level looked lower that usual while fresh growth sprouted out in every direction. The entire area looked a deep green color, like a tropical jungle. Apparently, I was used to seeing the lake in its sparse winter attire, so this evening the place looked completely different. And speaking of jungles, the second mile of the trail was hot and full of pesky gnats that swarmed around our faces, sometimes sticking to my wet skin. I tried not to inhale them while periodically shooing the insects away, which had little to no effect. We both arrived back at the car hot and sweaty, so we blasted the air conditioning while driving to dinner. 

When we arrived at La Rancherita, I was still sweaty and hot, but once we sat down and I knocked back two glasses of unsweetened iced tea, I cooled back down. We ate our fill, enjoying the crazy music the restaurant played. When we heard one song we liked, my wife directed me to ask Siri for the name of the song. I asked Siri, and my iPhone started listening, then directed me to the song on Apple Music. Why did I not know about this feature on my phone?

When we arrived home and exited the car, the strong floral scent on the property hit us. We went inside the house, fed the dogs, and then played with each one of them. After, my wife took a bath while I followed up with a shower. It was good to have her home. After my shower, I sat down to think about our conversation we shared while walking around the lake. 

My wife was facing burnout from her schooling, and last week we talked about it. Not wanting to minimize the difficulty of her program, I talked to her about how hard and demanding the program had been. Then I told her we can face adversity with a defensive mindset, trying to survive, while we are obsessed with the high level of adversity, or we could meet the challenge with a type of positive aggression. This was not emotional aggression as a response to some stimulus. It was a resolute acceptance of the difficulty we faced, and a commitment to accept the challenge, ready to surmount the insurmountable. This was not an attitude of denial of the severity of the situation, but it was seeing it clearly and focusing all of one’s being on, not just being smart, but being tough. 

While walking around the lake, my wife told me the talked helped her get through the last week. She said she recognized she was feeling sorry for herself and that the conversation in her head was impeding her from taking the action she needed to take. We both acknowledged how self-pity was a dangerous attribute of being human and how, at the moment, it felt like the fair and just path to take, but it did nothing to resolve the problem. 

I remembered the famous quote by writer D. H. Lawrence. He wrote, “I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” Another lesson from nature. Bravo.

April 18, 2024

Floral Scents

Thursday morning seemed like a good day for sleeping in. When I woke up, it was light outside. The extra sleep felt good. I took care of my morning chores and then sat down for an hour to write. When I finished, I still had a little time before I needed to get ready for work, so I walked out my front door and headed to my vehicle.

I regularly bought corn from the feed supply store and usually left it stored in my truck. I opened the rear door and pulled out a forty-pound bag of deer corn, threw it over my shoulder, and headed for the feeding area in the grove. When I arrived in the area where my blind sat, I set up my phone on a small tripod and filmed the corn spilling out in slow motion. Later in the day, I posted it online so other people could check out this wildlife ritual. I poured out half of the bag in five piles and then carried the remaining corn back to my SUV. It was time to jump in the shower and get ready for work.

Work was busy, dealing mostly with small fires, something I referred to as controlled burning. The good thing about being busy, however, was that time seemed to fly by. I looked up from my desk and it was already time for lunch. I heated some barbecued spare ribs and ate them with the dogs. My break today was short. A few impromptu meetings pulled me back into my office prematurely, and before I knew it, work was over. This time tomorrow, my wife would pull down the dirt road. One more day.

I played with the dogs for a while, making them run around since they napped all day. After, I grabbed my boots and hat, and then headed out the front door and into the grove for last light. Dusk was settling in and the forest seemed silent. It was much quieter than the noise inside my head when I entered the woods. There were two woodpeckers beating away furiously on trees around me. Their rapid and loud pecks meant they were likely pileated woodpeckers. The sound echoed through the forest as they beat in patterns of four, six, and eight speedy pecks.

I made my way to Beaver Tooth Rock and climbed up the side and took a rest. For a Thursday, the area appeared quiet. This week, the evenings were filled with the hum of farm equipment preparing the crop fields, but tonight I didn’t hear them. The mosquitoes were out, and it was getting dark, so I left the rock and headed alongside the creek. In the distance, I heard the faint sound of a four wheeler.

The weather had been warm and dry. Water levels in the creek were much lower than last month. The receding water trapped large puddles, making one area look like a bog. It smelled like one too. Two frogs started trilling. The volume of their songs was impressive. In spring, nighttime near the water was definitely not a silent affair. I kept moving down the trail that lead back to my house. When I arrived halfway home, a sweet floral scent overcame me. I looked around to see the flowers, but they were nowhere to be found.

When I arrived home, I moved to the backyard that bordered the forest. The smell of flowers was strong tonight. I wasn’t sure what kinds of flowers were in bloom, but it smelled like a combination of scents that coalesced into a complex, sweet, floral perfume. It was hard not to stop and breathe it all in. I sat on the hammock, closed my eyes, and took in breaths as deep as I could. Every breath was magnificent. In fact, I took so many deep breaths that when I stood up, I suddenly felt light-headed.

I cut some wood into kindling, started a fire, and pulled up a rocking chair to sit down and take in the night. The fire started small, but grew in intensity. I threw on more wood and five minutes later; the fire roared. I went inside the house and put the rice cooker to work. Then I sat outside enjoying the sight and sounds of the cracking fire. After heating the Traeger, I tenderized a ribeye, seasoned it, and threw it on the grill. I placed the costarum where the heat was most intense. The strip of fat on the steak was best when charred.

While my steak cooked, my wife called me on FaceTime to say goodnight. She was going to bed early so she could be ready for her morning exam. I wished her a good night’s sleep, pulled my sizzling steak off the grill, and devoured half of it with rice. After the meat cooled, I minced the other half and added it to the dogs’ dinner bowls. The dogs knew that when the grill was on, they would get some yummy treats for their dinner. We were all excited.

While the dogs ate, I went back outside and sat down to take one last look. The fire cast dancing shadows on the deck while a flock of geese flew by the moon’s light, their honks echoing across the sky. I took in a few more deep breaths, excited that my wife would be home tomorrow evening to enjoy the sweet smells. After I cleaned up the kitchen table, I took a quick shower, and then went to bed. It was the last night of the week that I would sleep alone. My wife had off next week for Spring Break, and I took off work next Wednesday through Friday. Tomorrow would be a great day, and the next day, even better.

April 17, 2024

Surrounded

Twilight was already ending when I awoke. It felt good to sleep in and when I got out of bed; I felt rested. Dogs and chores occupied my morning as I put some clothes to wash and cleaned up the kitchen after making some coffee. The middle of the week was here.

During my lunch break, I took a walk into the woods. I was still pleasantly surprised to find the cleared trails my wife left me. When we moved here, there were a few pieces of dead wood arranged on the ground. Chance had placed them in the rough shape of a horse, and we used it as a landmark, stepping over it, while we explored the trails. After a year, the wood had disintegrated and our little horse was nowhere to be found. This morning, however, while exploring the trails, I saw my wife had fashioned a new horse, better than the first, and placed it just off the trail where it would not get trampled. I stopped to take a few pictures and later texted my wife that I had found it. She laughed.

The sky was cloudy, but the air felt less humid, and it was pleasant to be out in the middle of the day. This week, the temperatures had been warm, making lunchtime walks hot, causing me to arrive at the house ready to cool off and dry the sweat from my brow. The forest was quiet this afternoon. While walking through the shaded grove, I noticed all the deer corn was gone, so I planned to take some more out later. Something had opened up and eaten the five ears of fresh corn, leaving only the husks, silks, and bare corncobs. An animal had carried one ear a hundred yards down the trail and eaten it there.

With the progression of spring, the air smelled sweeter by the day. While the early blooming pear and wild cherry trees had little aroma, sweet flowers and blossoms were showing up everywhere. In a few more weeks, the more fragrant flowers would arrive. Still, the air already smelled pleasant enough to grab and hold my attention.

When I arrived at the creek area, I slowed down, walking as stealthily as I could. Four ducks had frequented the area, but I had not identified them. A month ago, I saw a pair of mallards in this same area, but these ducks looked different. Last week, I shot a few photos of them when they flushed, but the pictures came out blurry. I was finally getting close to the water when I heard a deer bark, followed by the sound of branches snapping as they bolted. There were no ducks in sight.

By the time I arrived back at the house, I felt hot. I went inside, grabbed some water and turned on the ceiling fan in my office. The fresh air served me well, and I felt ready for a productive afternoon at work. I still had a few minutes before my break was over, so I grabbed the pork spare ribs out of the refrigerator, salted them, and threw them on the smoker. On days like today, I loved having my Traeger wood pellet grill. Within five minutes, I had the meat on the grill, which would put off smoke for the next four hours without requiring me to do a thing.

After work had ended, I grabbed my boots and hat and headed into the woods for last light. If there was one thing that drove me crazy about spring and summer, it was the biting fly. These pesky flies seemed to find me within minutes of being outdoors. They were huge and inflicted painful bites that caused large welts. The most annoying thing about the biting fly was that you could not shoo it away. This thing would follow me for hundreds of yards, always staying right above my head and out of reach, then hitting my head with a thump while I unsuccessfully flailed my arms to thwart its bite.

Last year, however, I found a solution, my Outdoor Research Bug Helios hat that had a bug net that stowed neatly into a hidden compartment fastened with magnets. Just having the hat on seemed to repel the biting flies. I was not sure why they liked to attack my head. And the net came in handy when the mosquitoes were out. The hat was a must have and my wife and I used them religiously during the hot months. Yesterday, the flies arrived, and this evening I was ready.

I made my way to my ground blind in the grove. Last week, several days of high winds had tossed it upside down. I turned the tent-like structure right side up and repositioned it near the tree line. This allowed me to watch both the forest and empty field without being detected. After, I headed north up the trail.

When I arrived at the area where the grove met the woodland, I heard a deer bark. I saw them running further north toward the creek, so I turned west to a trail that looped around, hoping to cut them off near the water. I had not walked two hundred yards when I heard another deer bark. This was a different herd that spotted me and then ran east. I walked as quietly as possible to see if I could follow the herd. Within twenty steps, another deer barked to my left, where a third herd was feeding.

Deer literally surrounded me. Crouching down with my camera, I remained motionless, contemplating my next move in order to capture some suitable photographs. I decided I would backtrack to my blind, where all the deer seemed to be headed. I knew they would either circle back to that area or head north, cross the creek, and be gone. Either direction was a gamble. When I arrived back at the blind, there were no deer in sight. Even though I didn’t shoot any stellar photographs, I exited the woods, feeling lucky to have been out in the wild.

When I arrived back at the house, I turned up the heat on the grill to cook off the ribs that had been smoking for several hours. Then I split some wood, built a fire, and stretched out in the hammock under the setting sun. Life was good. I sent my wife a short proof of life video, so she wouldn’t worry about me. We talked later via FaceTime and I called her again to say goodnight after I showered. I went to bed happy that I would wake up one day closer to seeing my best friend.

April 16, 2024

The Big Dipper

The day started at 4 AM. My wife and I woke up feeling rested and ready for the day. This morning, my wife would leave for Durham for the week, staying at a small bed-and-breakfast. It was test week and she would come back home Friday evening after her exam. As we sipped our coffees, we talked about our plans for the week. It was never fun seeing my wife leave, but we were used to it and I knew the week would pass quickly. When she was ready, I walked her to her car, kissed her, and said goodbye. Betraying the melancholy mood was the sweet floral scent of spring flowers in the air.

Work was busy, but productive. During my lunch break, I went outside to pick up the dog poop from the backyard and gathered the trash from the house. I made the short drive to the trash service center to drop it off before heading into Bailey to buy some food from the Piggly Wiggly. There I picked up some ribeyes and a rack of pork spare ribs for the smoker. I ran a quick errand into town before heading back to the house. Before turning down the dirt road, I stopped to check the mail, sorted through it, and then placed all the letters I received in their proper mailboxes. After two years here, I had learned that delivery services, even the post office, delivered items to the wrong address just as often as the right one.

When I got home, it felt good to park my SUV in its place. I knew I would be in for the night, which felt settling. I ate a quick lunch and then got back to work. The day was moderately busy, but passed by quickly.

After work, I disconnected the back gate, swinging the fence open wide enough to fit the riding mower through it. The grass in the backyard was getting long. We liked to keep it short, so I picked up the dog toys and mowed the lawn. A freshly cut lawn looked nice, kept the insects away, and made it easier to spot dog poop. I was pleased with how the backyard looked, so I also mowed a large section of grass just in front of the house. While mowing, I realized tonight was the monthly meeting for the Wilson Camera Club. With my wife gone, I had completely spaced it. Although staying home sounded good, I lamented missing their interesting presentations.

While putting away the mower in the barn, I saw hundreds of small white flowers growing in the pasture. They were wildflowers, but they gave off an amazing floral scent. This was what I smelled this morning when my wife left. It was that time of year. In a few weeks, the mimosa trees would bloom and honeysuckle would show up all around. I reminisced about this time last year. For a week, the entire property smelled like someone had sprayed fancy French perfume all around. The aroma was both pleasant and potent. It was intoxicating.

After mowing, I grabbed my camera and planned to make the trek through the forest to Beaver Tooth Rock. Dusk had settled, but there was still enough light to shoot a few photos if I ran into any wildlife. I entered the trailhead that lead into the pine grove, never making it into the old woodland where I had planned to go. On the east side of the grove, I was looking at my ground blind, still turned upside down, when I spotted two deer in an empty field. Last week, a local farmer came by and placed a long line of yellow caution tape across the field, marking the area that needed to be tilled. The field would soon have crops planted in it. The two deer were near the tape, smelling it occasionally as they fed.

I crouched low on the ground, behind the cover of a large pine trunk. The deer sauntered and fed, never detecting me. I shot photographs and watch them for about forty minutes. Two other deer showed up in the field while they all enjoyed a lazy meal. It surprised me that the deer never detected my scent. After getting eaten by mosquitoes last night, I had sprayed a healthy amount of bug repellent all over me. I was sure the powerful odor would have given away my location, but the deer never looked my way. Maybe the spray’s scent masked my human smell. The deer likely detected the repellent but did not associate it with me.

After taking several photographs, I said a quiet thank you and goodbye to the herd. Then, I made my way back to the house as quietly as possible so I would not disturb them. The dogs were excited to see me and knew it was evening time. Time to cut up, play, and have doggy dinners. I cut some wood and started a fire in the Solo Stove on the deck. I also turned on the Traeger grill and gave it time to heat. Once I was inside, I washed some Kagayaki short grained rice and placed it in the rice cooker. Then I sat outside and enjoyed the sight of the freshly mowed backyard while listening to some music.

After relaxing for a half hour, I threw a tenderized and salted ribeye onto the grill and cooked it for eight minutes on each side. I forgot how the grill got hotter in the spring when it wasn’t twenty something degrees outside. The grill made beautiful marks on the meat, and the fat on the edge of the steak charred perfectly. Dinner was amazing, and I swore it was the best steak I had ever eaten, after which I laughed, knowing I said that same thing after every steak I ate.

I threw a few more logs on the fire and sat outside, looking up at the stars. The Big Dipper was right in front of me and I remembered when I first found the constellation as a small child. Back then, I had no way of comprehending the vastness of what I was seeing. As an adult, I understood the expanse was so great that my mind was incapable of imagining everything in its proper context. But no matter how inexplicably or incomprehensibly vast, I was a part of it all, proof that our own depth was equally unimaginable and elusive.

April 15, 2024

Three Pillars

The crew was back together, and we both slept better than we had in a few nights. My wife and I drank coffee on the couch, ready for the new day. I had to work, but she was off, trying to relax before her trip tomorrow morning to Durham for the week. After coffee, we trimmed Bodhi’s and Koda’s nails. Both dogs were in a cooperative mood, swayed by the tasty cat treats we had in the cupboard.

My wife moved to the back porch, sitting on the hammock, studying, while I took a shower and got ready for work. Monday was here. Before work began, I went outside to check on my wife. She received the scores from last week’s testing. She had excellent results that showed she was on track for her end-of-year testing and national certification exam. Great news.

It was cold this morning, but the temperature was supposed to get up to 88 degrees! It’s not your time, yet, summer. While we were outside, two fighter jets approached and then flew over our house at low altitude. One jet rotated on its axis, rolling left and then right. Fighter planes did not frequent the area, but today they were out practicing maneuvers. It was pretty damned cool.

My wife left for an appointment and was gone during my lunchtime. I gulped down some food, a bowl of instant ramen, and then grabbed my camera before heading into the woods. The day had warmed, but it felt cooler in the pine grove’s shade. An enormous hawk flew through the grove crying out, instantly reminding me why I loved being outdoors. The cool feeling didn’t last long, and soon, the heat felt like an early summer's day. Gnats were circling my head and while slapping them away, I walked through at least four spider webs that crossed the trail.

I came home earlier than expected and my wife arrived soon after. Her appointment went well, and we had an interesting talk about school and the stress this program brought. I was proud of her for keeping the ungodly pace and long hours of medical school. It was like having a full-time job and full-time school schedule on top of each other. While talking about stress, I relayed what I called the Three Pillars. These were three things that, when cared for, made every facet of life easier, and when ignored, made stress inevitable. The Three Pillars included Sleep, Nutrition, and Exercise. Focusing on all three made one a powerhouse, while messing up in even one area crumbled our energy like a house of cards.

After work, we went to dinner at the Cracker Barrel, and I finally tried their dinner menu, ordering the Southern Fried Chicken. There was enough chicken for two or three people, so I brought plenty home for the kids. Um, dogs. We had a great time, and I appreciated sitting down and having a meal with my wife before she had to leave for Durham. When we arrived home from the restaurant, the air felt much cooler at 81 degrees. I wanted to go into the woods for last light, but my wife opted to stay at the house and pack for her trip. On the way out the door, she handed me a package with five ears of corn that were overly ripened. I took them into the woods for the animals.

As soon as I entered the grove, the trails blew me away. A recent storm had left them full of twigs and small male pine cones that had dropped in the high winds. This afternoon, while I was working, my wife went into the woods armed with a rake and leaf blower. The trails were immaculately clean. When I exited the grove into the woodland, I heard something I had never heard at this time of day, in this part of the forest. It was an owl hooting repeatedly. I pulled out my phone and recorded the noise for my wife to hear while moving through the forest, trying to locate the owl. I never saw which trees housed it, but I caught glimpses of the raptor between the trees when it flew away into the woods.

When I arrived at a large rock we used as a landmark, I saw something special. My wife had found a large hawk feather and placed in neatly on the rock, pinning it down with a piece of wood. She knew I would find and appreciate it. I did. I snapped a few pictures and took a few steps before realizing my wife had cleared the trail from the rock, down toward the creek, and all the way over to Beaver Tooth Rock. It was hot today, and that was an ungodly amount of work. I blushed knowing she cleared the trails for me. She wanted me to move through the woods silently so I could catch photographs of wildlife, and she worked her ass off so I could enjoy the property while she was gone. I wondered how I found such a beautiful, intelligent, and hardworking partner. The trails never looked so nice.

When I arrived near Beaver Tooth Rock, I heard deer moving through the trees, but I never spotted them. Along the creek, I walked quietly, getting close enough to the bank to see four ducks flush. They were beautiful and their flapping wings, loud. I remembered this noise from before when approaching this area. Now, I knew it was the ducks I heard. Between walking the trails, looking for wildlife, and dodging spider webs, I was constantly fighting off mosquitoes. I was getting eaten alive near the creek, so I turned and headed back toward the house. 

When I arrived home, my wife had just finished bathing, and I was ready to jump in the shower. She finished packing and was ready for her trip, and, as a couple, we were ready for the week despite disliking the physical distance apart. While my wife’s graduate program was hard, we had confirmed one thing over the past two years. Our love was rock solid.

April 14, 2024

Hummingbirds And Dragonflies

I woke up on Sunday morning feeling rested. After an expresso, I fed the dogs and sat outside. The temperature was in the mid-forties and felt cold. My wife was still gone, but I knew she would be back sometime this evening. This kept me in high spirits, and I showered and headed to Wilson to eat breakfast at Cracker Barrel.

Despite the restaurant being packed, the hostess quickly seated me at a small table suitable for a party of one. Since I met my wife, I rarely ate alone. For the past two years, however, she’s been in graduate school, which has taken her out of town for extended periods. Still, I was surprised by how different the dining experience was when eating out alone. Everything went faster and was a little boring. I suppose it was cheaper, but I would gladly buy breakfast for wifey just to see her face and hear her voice.

After breakfast, I stopped at Dunham’s sporting good store, where I bought some line swivels for fishing. Papa Jack’s in Kenly was out of them, and I was running low. I picked up three packets for ninety-nine cents each. I also bought a tool my wife could use to massage her tight shoulders. They had been bothering her for a while now, probably from sitting too long while studying. I also bought her a Yeti can holder in her school’s color, so we would both have one. Occasionally, she enjoyed a cold beer, but we drank several cans of carbonated water throughout the day. The holder kept the beverage cold and didn’t sweat all over the desk or table.

I made a stop at Target to pick up some more dog kibble, cans of water, and a card for my wife. The self-checkout was closed, so I waited in line for almost twenty-minutes. I didn’t mind since it was my day off. Because I found myself on an impromptu shopping spree, I stopped at Harris Teeter and picked up some different IPAs. There were two beers from Noda Brewing Company, Lil Slurp, a Juicy IPA, and Slurp Surfin, a West Coast IPA. 

After I unloaded all the groceries, I changed clothes and walked out into the pine grove to check the corn I laid out the day before. The high winds had flipped my ground blind upside down about thirty feet from where I set it up. Near the twisted blind, the corn remained untouched by the deer, but the piles placed away from the blind showed small divots made by the deers’ muzzles. The corn furthest away was almost completely gone and corn particles that dropped from the deers’ grinding molars were everywhere. There were several pregnant does in the area, so I’m sure they were hungry and in search of nutrition for their young. While inspecting the corn, I heard a movement in the brush, probably the deer camping out by the nearby food source. They were sometimes protective of their food, nudging other deer away, or standing on their hind legs to look more intimidating.

In the afternoon, my wife called advising me she was an hour away, and she was hungry. She told me she was going to pick up food, but called back asking if we had anything to eat at the house. As soon as we got off the phone, I tenderized a ribeye, salted it with the cilantro lime salt my wife loved so much, and threw the steak on the smoker. When she was ten minutes away, I turned up the heat, cooking the meat off. After she arrived, she sliced the steak and put it on a salad she made. I was still full from a large, late breakfast.

It was good to back together, but we both felt that crash that happened when we had been apart. When we were together, life was simple, and when apart, everything took more effort. On days like today, when we reunited, we felt happy, but the stress of being apart left us feeling tired. Today was a day to recharge. She fell asleep in the hammock while I sat in a rocking chair beside her, writing on my computer and sipping coffee. The afternoon was quiet outside, except for the long breezes sweeping through the treetops and the mellow sound of the large chime in the garden. It was sunny, but the breeze was cool.

Later, I went inside for a bit and my wife saw our first hummingbird near the feeder we purchased about a month ago. It usually took a while for a new feeder to be located, but once a hummingbird found it, the tiny bird would usually return. I looked forward to seeing and photographing it.

In the evening, we drove into Wilson to pick up some pizza, salad, and garlic knots. After, we sat at our new outdoor table eating and talking about life. The weather was perfect and my wife noticed the sun had shifted, eliminating all but a sliver of shade on the deck. During the winter, the sun never touched the deck, and during spring and summer, there was no shade.

We continued our evening by walking into the grove. An eastern gray squirrel was munching on corn kernels. It kept moving ahead of us in the direction we were walking. The poor thing probably thought we were chasing it. When we arrived near the creek, there was a herd of deer well hidden by the tall golden grasses. We watched them for a few minutes and then moved on to Beaver Tooth Rock, where we chatted for a while. I inspected the tiny new leaves of a nearby maple tree. My wife pointed out how waxy and shiny the recent growth looked.

Back at the house, we sat down outside, her in the hammock and me in a rocking chair. The sun was dropping and the air cooling. A large swarm of mosquitoes flew over our heads about ten feet above us. Oddly enough, they never came down to bite. The sight was unpleasant, with forty or fifty buzzing mosquitoes flying randomly in circles, like electrons around a cartoon atom. The mood shifted, however, when we saw a dragonfly arrive, which we thought was beautiful. Then the neatest thing happened. The dragonfly started flying up into the swarm, catching mosquitoes. It looked like a little Apache helicopter taking out the flying insects one by one, eating about ten or fifteen of them. It was one of the coolest air shows I had seen.

April 13, 2024

Splish Splash

When I went to bed last night, I planned on sleeping in, which in my book, was a good use of a Saturday morning. My wife was gone in body, staying at a bed-and-breakfast in Durham, but, apparently, she was with me in spirit. At five o’clock, her alarm began sounding, which woke me, prompting me to open my eyes so I could find the button that would make the sound quit. Opening my eyes was a mistake as my wife’s alarm clock had a light that slowly brightened, which was supposed to wake you gently. By the time I heard the alarm, however, the light was a few shades brighter than the sun. Blinded, I started pushing all the buttons to turn off the light and noise so I could go back to sleep. The light, which was supposed to help wake you, was, unfortunately, very effective. By the time I quieted the clock, the entire ordeal might well have been a smelling salt. My body and brain were tired, but shaken awake.

I woke up, took the dogs out, and started morning chores. The sink had a few dishes from last night’s barbecue, and there was laundry to be washed. After fumbling through my normal routine, I snuck past all four guard dogs and hid under the covers in a dark, quiet room. I woke up an hour later and felt great. I made some coffee, switched out the laundry, and put the chicken wings to marinade in a teriyaki sauce I loved. The second take of the morning felt much more like a weekend.

After a second cup of coffee and time with the dogs, I grabbed my camera, slipped on my boots, and walked into the woods to take some pictures. The sun was up and the light was a little harsh for photography, but I found some shaded areas with softer light and interesting shadows. The feeling of being in the forest on a weekend was unmatched. During the week, there was always a pending end to the fun. In the mornings, I had several hours, but work prep started at eight o’clock, which caused me to check my watch and begin moving toward the house well before that. In the evening, the sky grew dark, and dinner and other nighttime activities were inevitable. But on a weekend morning, I could take my time sauntering through the woods. The feeling was freeing.

After a long morning outdoors, I headed back to the house for more coffee and some lunch. I took a quick break to rest, playing with the dogs, and watching a documentary on the history of human beings. The documentary was interesting and gave a more visceral understanding of how we were born out of nature. In our history, our primate ancestors left the safety of the trees in search of food away from their natural habitat. I wondered if any part of our deeply buried DNA was the reason I felt comfortable, safe, and alive while walking among the trees. This place, for millions of years, was our home. The weather, however, was too pretty to get lost in deep thoughts. I grabbed my fishing gear, bid the dogs farewell, and headed out the door.

The drive to the reservoir was always exciting. The anticipation of being out on the water fishing plastered a smile across my face, while country music blasted through the speakers. When I arrived, I found an empty pier and made my way toward the end. After just a few steps from my car, I noticed the wind was pretty crazy and when I looked at the pier; it was bouncing up and down like a mechanical bull. The high winds made for rough waters. It was going to be one of those days. Onward and forward. This was survival; this was fishing.

The rough water looked a murky olive color from the stirring mud and underwater vegetation. The waves hit the side of the pier with enough force to splash over the edge, covering the pier with water. Despite the rough conditions, the sun was out, and the weather was warm. I was happy to be at the reservoir.

The fishing was slow, probably because of the wind and poor visibility. I felt several bites on my line, but I finished my time out on the water without placing my hands on a single fish. Skunked, as the angler’s saying went. Fish or no fish, battling the wind, being splashed by the waves, and being outdoors at the lake was worth it. It was early in the season and spring fishing was just getting underway.

When I returned home, I walked into the woods with my camera. The air smelled of dirt, musky and sweet. On the east side of the property, I spotted a herd of deer through the trees, standing in an open field. I took several photographs and then hiked back to my vehicle, where I pulled out a bag of deer corn and carried it back into the grove. The deer were still in the field watching me, half curious and half wary. I poured out the corn in several piles along the trail. As the hard yellow kernels fell to the ground, a cloud of dust spilled up into the air. I imagined the smell would hit the deer’s noses pretty quickly. I shot a few more pictures before grabbing the empty bag and walking back to the house.

In the evening, I chopped some wood and built a fire, sitting outside, enjoying the weather. There were teriyaki chicken wings cooking on the Traeger while I listened to music, sipping a cold IPA. This, I told myself, was roughing it. Of course, the comment was in jest, but I missed my wife and wished she was out on the porch with me.

April 12, 2024

Empty Feelings

I woke up a few minutes after four o’clock, reaching in the dark to see if my wife was still in bed. This morning, she would leave early for a three-day trip, which had us both feeling a little down. It was always weird to pass a weekend without her, but we hoped she would be back on Sunday afternoon before it got dark. We were busy with our morning routines and before I knew it; I had kissed my wife goodbye, and was watching her red brake lights disappear down the dirt road that leads away from our home. I spent the morning washing clothes, doing dishes, and vacuuming my office. After, I sat down at my desk and wrote for ninety minutes. Then, I grabbed my camera and slipped into the woods, hoping the wind wouldn’t be too bad.

There was a high wind advisory in effect, and with good reason. The tall trees in the forest swayed back and forth, making loud whooshing noises similar to angry waves breaking on a beach with their frothing white foam. The leaves shimmered, and the trees creaked like an old wooden floor, making me feel like a pine top could break off at any second. Moving along the path, I hoped I wouldn’t get hit by a falling branch, large or small. I temporarily lost my focus when I noticed the sun shining on my face. I stopped and turned to the light with closed eyes, feeling the radiating warmth on my face, and then moved on.

My wife and I recently cleared several trails, and this morning, I noticed broken twigs, dried leaves, and other debris had sullied the path. In the grove, the trail was most prominently covered with tiny yellow worm-like sacs, which had fallen by the thousands. These were no worms. The small sacs, which measured about two inches and were the width of a number two pencil, were male pine cones. They recently discharged their bright yellow pollen into the air and then fell to the ground after playing their role in the fertilization of the female pine cones, which were familiar to most people. Although these tiny structures fell naturally after pollination, the high winds blew them to the forest floor, covering the trails we recently cleared.

My ground blind did not escape the wind and was upside down about thirty feet from where I left it. I kept moving north toward Beaver Tooth Rock. It was good to be outside after a few days of rain. All my normal friends were out: the birds, the creek, and trees. It was a gorgeous day, and I felt lucky to be out in nature. I enjoyed my time in the woods before heading back to prepare for work. It would be a busy day. I had learned that putting in a fast-paced day on Friday helped make the start of the new week more bearable. Things felt a little odd once work finished, as I was used to my wife coming home and starting our weekend together.

After I shut down my computer, I changed clothes and headed back into the woods, stepping over small branches and twigs blown onto the trail. The gusts had softened, but the air rushing through the treetops still dominated the soundscape. The whisking winds relaxed me. I made my way to Beaver Tooth Rock to look for deer. Although I rarely saw deer in this area last spring, this year I had seen several herds. They seemed to cross through the ravine, but tonight, I heard something behind me and to my right. I froze with my camera, seeing nothing. Then a doe barked, and I saw a deer shoot north, barely visible through the trees. About ten seconds later, three more deer followed.

I sat down to think for a while before leaving the area. The weekend was here, and I liked to reflect on what I was going to do, especially since my wife was gone. The weather had warmed, and I knew the fish would be more active at the reservoir. Fishing was a must. The trails would need to be cleaned, and I probably had time to extend them over the next few days. I made my way home using a trail that cut down the middle of the property. As I walked down the path, the forest went quiet. About fifteen minutes before, at Beaver Tooth Rock, the woods seemed noisy with the water, birds, and ambient noises in the distance. Suddenly, the woods were overly quiet, and I instinctively softened my breathing. Moments like this were rare in the forest. It suddenly felt empty.

When I arrived home, I cut some wood and made a fire in the pit. It was windy outside, but I felt the fire would be okay. During my lunch break, I had driven to the Piggly Wiggly and picked up a two pack of ribeyes, some corn on the cob, and a package of chicken wing drumettes for the weekend. When wifey was gone, grilling was always a must. The girl made us eat lots of vegetables, so I was trying to cut back. Everything in moderation, as the saying went.

I sat outside for the evening, watching the sky fade to black while a steak sizzled on the grill. As night fell, the winds picked up, blowing the large pines back and forth like they were saplings. Even though the gusts blew strongly, the bats were still out hunting insects, none of us minding the spooky weather. After dinner, I added some firewood to the coals and sat outside, pondering life. How did I get here to this unexpected place, and where would life next take us?

April 11, 2024

Magic

This morning, the entire household felt a little tired. I joked that there must have been a gas leak, but got no laughs, and only one tail wag from my trusty dog, Axel. Although we didn’t have gas at our house, we all seemed to be under a weary spell. The day’s forecast called for rain and high winds all day, which put a damper on my wife’s only day off. We made some lattes and took them outside. The rain had not started, but the clouds certainly looked gloomy. We heard several birds chirping and a beautiful red-shouldered hawk cried out as it soared above us. I studied our deck, now fully decorated with furniture that matched the set out in the garden. The place looked established.

My wife, always wise and ever hungry, asked if we should go to breakfast in Middlesex at a little breakfast place called Wiggs Family Restaurant. I looked at my watch and I still had two hours before work started. We threw on some presentable clothes and headed to the car. I was excited about the biscuits, which were the size of my large palm. When we arrived, we learned they were out of biscuits, so I settled for some plain toast, which I forgot how much I liked. I ate the eggs with fried pork tenderloins and my wife had bacon and eggs. We both ordered their home style potatoes, which were always on point. We ate breakfast and then headed back home, me with plenty of time to shower and get ready for work.

When I logged into my computer at nine, it rained. The dark sky persuaded me to open my blinds, and I glanced out the window periodically to check the weather. The day was heavily clouded and the rainfall would be an all-day affair. My wife was having a difficult time relaxing as it was her only day off this week. Because of someone else’s poor behavior, she had to switch work locations during the last week of her current rotation. Although we were happy she was out of the toxic environment, the new work location meant we would be away from each other over the next few weeks. I sensed her stress and remembered many times when I felt like my day off wasn’t productive or restful. It was stressful knowing time off was dwindling and that you’d be back at work before you knew it. I had experienced this many times.

During my lunch break, we gathered up all the trash in the house. We had several bags and a truck full of cardboard boxes from the recently purchased patio furniture. For whatever reason, I always felt lighter after making a trip to the trash service center, knowing that I had cleared my environment from garbage. I believed there was a strong connection between the condition of our environment and our general mood. A sloppy home promoted a sloppy attitude, and when the house was clean, my mind felt more clear.

After work, I was on a mission to save the day and cheer up my wife, but how? With my dashing good looks and undeniable sense of humor? Those were so commonplace that they might have lost their edge. I needed something more powerful; magical. Yes, a magic potion. That would do the trick. I poured her beer into one of the frosted mason jars we kept in the freezer and put on some music. By the time she was halfway through with the mysterious brew, I could tell her mood had lifted. Oh, the wizardry. We sat outside talking and laughing, watching the tall pines that border the forest sway back and forth like flimsy blades of grass. The powerful winds ushered in the evening’s magic, transforming the whole place. Under the spell of a second cup of the magical brew, I grabbed my wife’s small hand and told her were going on an adventure. A tree-dodging walk through the haunted forest.

The walk through the forest was lovely. The weather was less than tame, with intermittent rain and full-time wind gusts that made the pines creak as one tree’s branches rubbed against those of another. Courageously, we made our way through the forest toward the creek until we arrived at Beaver Tooth Rock. We paused there watching nature’s display of force, and then talked a little about how, sometimes, with the right magic and incantation, a bad day always had the potential to turn around. After I stole long kisses on top of the rock, we eased our way back down onto the forest floor.

When we arrived home, my wife fed the dogs while I cleaned the kitchen. After, she took a long bath, but not before thanking me several times for helping her out of her funk. I wondered if she remembered how many times she had done the same thing for me. The rest of the evening was mostly quiet. After I showered, my mother called, worried about my brother because he had a bout of cellulitis and was battling a fever. The boy even took off work, which he never did. My mother had googled the condition, which diagnosed every condition as fatal. The doctor prescribed my brother strong antibiotics and sent him home. I assured my mother that if it was more serious, they would have sent him to the hospital.

Today was a great day. Tomorrow, my wife would leave for Durham and stay there for the next three days. I knew I would miss her, but school was also coming to a close. And even though every step of the last few miles of a marathon hurt, the finish line was quickly approaching.

April 10, 2024

The Return

Last night’s late dinner roiled in my guts as I slept. An upset stomach woke me up at 2 AM and I found myself unable to go back to sleep until after three. I woke up at five feeling moderately better and did a little work on the computer while my wife slept a while longer. She had an online exam this morning, so she would be home all day. This made us both happy.

We planned to move my wife into my office for the day, so I showered earlier than normal and then began moving my work things to the dining room table. There were two laptops and an iPad, various notebooks and pens, and my ergonomic mouse and clicky mechanical keyboard. At eight, my wife locked herself in my office and began testing. At nine, I started work, enjoying the new environment. It was strange how I worked from home using a laptop, but rarely worked outside of my home office. The main reason was the large monitors I used, which helped me pull up multiple documents simultaneously without contributing to blindness.

Working from the dining room table had its perks. The birds were active, landing near the window to eat suet left out on the deck railing. Small wrens fed from the block while a female cardinal picked up the fallen scraps. A small warbler showed up, its yellow chest shone brightly against the clouded sky. Later, an unexpected shower came and went, and by noon the sun was back out, making for a beautiful day. The forest looked especially green after the rain.

My wife finished her first round of testing at noon. She was in the kitchen when we both saw something we had been waiting for. A wren flew up into an abandoned nest high in the inside corner of the pergola. As we watched intently, we noticed the wren gathering dried leaves from the deck. We were excited. Last year, the pair of wrens, who usually mated for life, built the nest and had two broods of chicks as we took in the entire show, which lasted a few months.

The first day we heard faint peeps was enthralling. Then a few days later, we saw a wren chick peek its beak out over the edge of the nest. The parents got used to us and continued feeding their young, even when we sat on the couch under the pergola. One day, I set up a ladder to watch them from a distance. I counted three chicks while taking pictures, but when I studied the photos on my computer, I saw there were five small chicks. The mother stayed in the nest with them while the father hunted bugs all day, returning every few minutes with something for the hungry mouths to eat. In an act of pure genius, the chicks would eat the insect and then turn around to poop a solid white substance that was passed straight to the father who carried off the waste so it didn’t build up in the nest.

I was worried about the chicks once they began pushing out. Then, one day, they came out and perched outside the nest before returning. The next morning, I looked for some type of pen to place under the nest so the dogs or other predators would not kill the chicks, but while I was still searching on my computer, my wife called me to come outside. By the time I got there, all the chicks were on the ground following their parents through the fence. After weeks of connecting, they were suddenly gone. We were surprised to find ourselves feeling sad about being separated from our new friends. A few months later, the parents returned and produced three more chicks. Now, they were back for a new spring season.

During my lunch break, my wife and I took a walk through the forest. I routinely made these treks on breaks during the day, but it was nice to have her home with me. We walked quietly, making our way toward Beaver Tooth Rock, where we planned to sit and relax for a bit. A little before we arrived, however, my wife froze, pointing her small hand straight ahead. About thirty yards in front of us, on the creek’s bank, stood a beautiful doe.

The doe’s body was facing away, but she turned her head and stared straight at us. Her gigantic eyes looked curious, and she remained calm as we all stood frozen, staring at each other. The deer’s coat looked clean and contrasted with the fresh growth in the forest. The lighting was perfect and the scene would have made a once in a lifetime photograph. Breaking its gaze, the deer barked at us and ran north, eventually turning east to join a herd that emerged from the forest further away. The experience was one of my top two favorite deer sightings since I had been here. During a sunrise, my wife and I were drinking coffee on the deck when the other occurrence took place. The light of the rising sun looked deep gold and formed hundreds of beams shooting through the fog in the pine grove. About twenty yards from us, a herd of deer stood quietly in the forest, perfectly backlit by the sun. I embraced today’s experience knowing how rare it was.

After work, we assembled the new outdoor furniture consisting of four chairs, two swiveling chairs, and a large table. We placed the set on the deck, arranging the hammock, fire pit, and rocking chairs. The deck was officially ready for spring. In the evening, we picked up a pepperoni and mushroom pizza from Armando’s. Rumors circulated that someone might have eaten a slice of cheesecake. Tomorrow was Thursday, and my wife had the day off. Friday, however, she would leave for Raleigh, staying there for the weekend while working at the VA hospital. Being apart never thrilled us, but I was happy she would be in a better work environment and besides, she just had a little over three months of rotations left. I knew we had this.

April 9, 2024

Boundaries

I woke up at three o’clock in the morning feeling wide awake, staying in bed thinking about my upcoming day, finally falling asleep an hour later. My wife and I had our customary coffee before sitting down to study and write. The morning was quiet, and I looked out the dining-room window while my wife prepared for work. Twilight was beginning and all the dogs were taking their after breakfast nap. After my wife left for work, I exited the house for my morning walk through the woods.

The air in the forest felt cool, but it was not cold. My mind flashed to my morning walks just a few months ago when I had to face the freezing temperatures. Spring, I thought, made for more comfortable walks. Before, a thick layer of trampled leaves, pine needles, and small twigs from fallen branches covered this trail. Removing all the debris left a quiet path, allowing me to move through the forest more quickly and silently. When I reached the end of the cleared area, my boots crushed the leaves and branches of the old trail. After walking in silence, the crunching and snapping sounded deafening. I looked forward to having all the trails cleared one day.

I made my way to Beaver Tooth Rock, where I carefully climbed up the large boulder, hoping to see deer in the ravine. This morning, there were none. The area was active, with small wrens and cardinals flying fast in the undergrowth of trees and tall brush. An American red squirrel climbed high in a tree and then jumped to an adjacent tree leaning in proximity. I took a few deep breaths and readied myself for the day.

The walk back toward the house was quiet. When I arrived at an open space in the forest’s canopy, I stopped to inspect a large deer feeder that stood in the open. While fidgeting with one of the stand’s legs, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. A small black animal scurried away, disappearing before I could identify it. Was it a large, dark squirrel, or maybe a blue fox? It could have also been a cat from a neighboring property, although the animal’s long tail meant it was not a bobcat, which sported a short, nubby tail.

Today, I had several meetings which kept my tush glued to the polished seat of my office chair. The schedule wrecked my lunch break, so I couldn’t go outside for any length of time. My work was usually predictable and forgiving, so an occasional slurry of meetings was nothing to get stressed over. My wife had a busy day working through logistics for a mid-rotation change. I knew she would be exhausted when she got home, so I planned to take her to dinner after work.

We had an enjoyable meal and talked about her recent run in with a verbally abusive rotation leader. The person broke social norms and my wife kept her cool, but professionally reestablished boundaries, which resulted in the person lashing out even more. She took action with her school and they removed her from the rotation, which took a couple of days to organize. During those two days, the instructor was very nice, which complicated my wife’s feelings about the entire ordeal.

I ran into this dynamic a lot during my career in law enforcement and as a self-defense instructor. When someone attacked another person, they were breaking social norms, something the attacker willfully did. But a person defending themselves had to take action to set the boundary back in place. This created a situation where one person willingly broke norms while the other person had no choice but to respond. This often made the defender feel angry at being forced to take action and awful for doing something that was outside their normal behavior. It was an interesting dynamic, and I found it important to recognize it was the aggressor who created the entire situation. Self-defense was a necessary response and not an outright attack. I suppose the mind had trouble separating these when a response required a forceful reaction. Perhaps it was good that decent people felt stressed about being aggressive. Maybe this was a part of what kept them polite.

When we arrived home, my wife relaxed inside the house while I went out for last light. The day’s heat subsided, and there were cool pockets of air throughout the forest. Instead of a chilly wind blowing on me, I was the one moving through it, feeling the intermittent balmy and crisp air. Dusk had settled in and the forest was going dark. The cleared trails, however, were easy to see, even in low light. On the north side of the empty crop field, I saw a few deer standing near the tree line. They were feeding and facing the opposite direction, too far to hear me while the wind was in my favor. I watched them for a few minutes before moving on.

While approaching the creek, I saw something splashing in the water. While it could have been a large frog, the undulating movements near a patch of floating grass looked like patterns made by a fish’s fin. By the time I arrived at the bank, the movement was gone. I made my way back to the house, arriving as the sky went black. I got busy with my evening chores, feeding dogs and washing dishes before taking a shower and crawling into bed.

April 8, 2024

Insignificant Other

My watched buzzed, waking me up from a deep sleep. When I stood up from bed, my muscles felt sore from working on the trails, the pain gripping my arms and back. I felt better after a cup of coffee and some ibuprofen, but it was one of those rare mornings when my wife and I were dragging. I had forgotten how thrilled we were last fall when we cut the grass for the last time before winter. The break since then had erased memories of the work the property demanded during spring and summer. Farm Fit was back.

After washing up, I was surprised to find my wife studying outside in the hammock. It was cold, but she wanted to fit in more outdoor time before going to work. I checked to see if she needed anything, watching the vapor from my breath float out into the cold air, and then went inside to grab another cup of coffee. We kept the morning slow, writing and studying as best as we could. My wife left early to get gas and then returned home to pick up cookies she forgot. She baked some treats for us yesterday, but she also made a batch to take to the office where she was working.

Of course, the big news today was this afternoon’s solar eclipse. Surprisingly, I wasn’t excited about the eclipse, despite my love for nature, including outer space. It was in the news everywhere and I knew several photographers who were traveling hundreds of miles to catch the perfect image. I wondered what was turning me off and came up with two impressions.

First, people only seemed interested in natural events that were exceedingly rare or overwhelming in scale. While I should have felt optimistic people around the world were interrupting their routines to watch nature, I felt disheartened knowing their interest would wane as soon as the eclipse was over. While a solar eclipse grabbed the attention of tens or hundreds of millions of people, something as important as global warming wouldn’t even enter their minds, even after nature struck a chord in them.

Second, many people were trying to place their own ideas on the eclipse’s meaning. As if the event wasn’t remarkable enough, people had to add in their absurd ideas that had nothing to do with reality. Trying to pull some meaning out, a uniquely human trait, was taking something much larger than us, and trying to cram it into our smallness. Using nature as a prop, instead of learning from it, highlighted the limits of the human mind. While it had the power to break through its inherent weaknesses, it had very little interest in doing so.

I ate a small lunch, finishing it quickly and then ran an errand in Bailey for my wife. I arrived home with thirty minutes before my work began, so I grabbed my boots, gloves, and rake and headed into the woods where we left off clearing the trails. For thirty minutes, I raked the forest floor, extending the trail to a large rock we used as a landmark. I wasn’t sure if the work made my soreness feel better, but I arrived home feeling hot and ready for some cold water, which I chugged down during a meeting.

We received lots of deliveries today, most notably an outdoor table with six chairs that we’d put together over the next several days. I also received the dress shirts my wife ordered, and some medicine for Bodhi’s irritation issues, which entailed treating both his skin condition and sour attitude toward the other mutts. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock and my wife was home. I had a couple of late things come in, so I didn’t finish work for another half hour, but after, we snuck out of the house and into the woods.

I showed my wife the work I did on the trail and where I found ants that were way too large. As we walked inside the tree line, my wife spotted two deer standing in the northwest corner of the crop field. We waved hello and kept moving. When we came to an S curve in the trail that took us closer to where we saw the deer, the two does were standing in the same spot, watching us and feeding. We were about thirty yards from them, and it surprised me they didn’t spook. Two more deer emerged from the northern tree line, but we kept walking toward Beaver Tooth Rock.

Once we arrived, we set up our folding stools, opened a refreshing drink, and talked about our day. My wife was dealing with an authority figure in her rotation who was abusing their power and today, she resolved the issue through her school. We both took a deep breath and felt thankful her program took swift action and did the right thing. The sunset was quiet, and for the first time in a while, I could tell my wife felt more relaxed, despite the unsolicited pressures of her graduate program.

After enjoying some silence, we made our way home. When we arrived back near the grove, there was a lone deer just inside the tree line near my ground blind. We kept moving and after a few seconds; the doe barked and several deer took flight across the empty crop field. Although I saw fresh deer tracks yesterday, I had not seen the deer in a few days. This evening, I was happy to encounter them twice while we were out.

My wife fell asleep outside on the new hammock for about an hour, but when I crawled into bed, she was already there. I kissed her goodnight and set my head down on my pillow, thinking about the day. People were so good at treating nature like some pandora’s box that we opened and peeked into, admiring a vastness that we held in our hands. However, the actual world was exponentially larger than us, and we could never constrain it in a tidy package under our control. Instead of holding nature, it was holding us. I believed we placed ourselves at the center of the universe because we were too scared to accept our insignificance. I wondered if we would ever find the courage to realize these fears were pointless, and that the fastest way to embrace our power was to admit we had none. Before falling asleep, I snickered, realizing humans were just the universe’s insignificant other.

April 7, 2024

Sunday Feasts

Sunday morning started off right, with coffee and homemade French toast topped with peaches and syrup. Amen.

I knew it was going to be a good day when the end of one meal started the preparation of the next. After breakfast, my wife put a large pork butt to cook while I wrestled with sync issues between Scrivener and Dropbox. After a few chores inside the house, we changed clothes and went into the woods to do battle, rakes in hand.

The next two hours consisted of two actions: pull the rake, toss the foliage to the side of the trail. It was hard work. Because the morning was cold, I had several layers of clothing on, none of which were necessary. The repetition of movements provided a challenging workout, as I had to rake leaves and pine needles while navigating a trail covered with roots just below the surface of the dirt. This caused the rake’s teeth to catch on most every stroke. While the work was hard, we made our way down the trails faster than anticipated. After two hours, we felt whooped and in need of some water. I also needed to shed several pieces of clothing. We still had a lot of work to do, but we planned to knock out the other trails little by little.

We arrived back at the house famished, and my clothes were soaked with sweat. The pork my wife put to cook was ready, and she fried up some corn tortillas while I made more guacamole. Then we made tacos using the tortillas, shredded pork, guacamole, tomatoes, sriracha, and fresh lime juice. I sprinkled on an unhealthy amount of seasoning my wife recently purchased, made of salt, cilantro, lime, and red pepper flakes. I looked at the label, but it did not say crack cocaine, but the stuff was so addictive, that I was sure it was a key ingredient. Lunch was phenomenal, and I felt a little sad when the last bite of taco slid down my gullet. Those were the grim times when having an amazing partner paid off. I looked up and my wife was pulling freshly baked cookies out of the oven. There were dark chocolate cookies, some plain, some with coconut, and others with toasted marshmallows. Damn, it feels good to be a gangster. 

Lunch was followed by that duty, if not doody, of every unsung dog owning hero out there. The ceremonial picking up of the poop. After, we gathered trash and recycling and made a quick trip to the trash service center. When we arrived home, I was exhausted. Between the manual labor and enormous meal, laziness settled in, getting the best of me. I fell asleep on the couch, with my head resting on Bodhi’s hindquarters. He kept moving, so that meant one of us had to go. I found the floor adequately comfortable.

When I woke up, my wife was studying out in the pasture. I walked out there, wary of the bees in the flowered field. A bee stung the underside of my toe a week ago, and I was still dealing with the itching and swelling, barely able to bend my toe. Trying to bend it both hurt and drove my wife crazy, so of course I had to keep doing it. We walked around the pasture together, fixing wire from the electric fence the deer had broken. Within a few minutes, we had the fence looking like new.

Because food dominated our lives, we made a trip to the Piggly Wiggly in Bailey where we picked up two marbled ribeyes and more wood pellets for the smoker. Several years ago, almost by accident, we left some ribeyes on the smoker for several hours, which to our surprise, came out tasting like meaty bacon. Now, smoked ribeye tacos was one of our favorite meals.

While the ribeyes sat in the smoker, my wife and I relaxed on the porch sipping on cold beer, talking, and having fun. We slipped into the forest with Axel, checking out the progress we made on clearing the trails. Axel needed to burn some energy, and we just wanted to be out in the woods we loved so much. While admiring the clean trail, a large blue heron flew right over us. We came back home, pulled the ribeyes off the Traeger and cut them up. I heated tiny corn tortillas on the hot grill and then we sat down inside the house for an amazing meal. 

After dinner, I went back into the woods for last light, making my way with a small folding chair, settling in on top of Beaver Tooth Rock. The day had been sunny and warm, but the coolness of early spring was drifting in, permeating the air with a crisp coolness. As the sun lowered itself from the sky, the forest went dark and green and mysterious. I sat quickly with my eyes closed in a deep meditative state. The weekend was over and tomorrow, a new adventure would begin. I sensed changes were in the air, as if they ever really stopped. I gathering my things and made my way through the blackened forest, feeling the buzz of my watch. A delivery person was at my front door. A late delivery. What could that be?

When I arrived home, my wife was still in the bathtub soaking. On our front porch sat two large boxes, each holding a very fancy hammock. I carried the boxes through the house and set them on the back porch. When my wife came out, we put one of them together and promptly broke it in. We snapped together the stand for the hammock, which was made of a beautiful white woven cloth and a bamboo frame. It was the nicest hammock I had ever seen.

I went to shower, washing off a day of hard work and play. Meanwhile, my wife took a blanket outside and lied underneath the stars in the hammock, taking in the cold air after a hot bath. By the time I was ready for bed, she was already sound asleep in our bedroom. The weekend left us feeling exhausted and complete.