Faith
At 4:38 this morning, Scott was returning from the bathroom about to get back into bed when I asked, “Are you getting up now?” And before his back touched the bed, he got right back up and said, “I guess I better.” The radio came on for a second as he turned off the alarm and the light flicked on and off as he got ready for deer hunting.
I went to the bathroom and stumbled into the kitchen to get some water to cure a bad headache - a result of a cheap bottle of wine and bad fried food from the restaurant last night - and gave Scott a kiss before I climbed back into bed. I woke up for minutes when I heard Brian’s voice in the house, in our new house for the first time. I heard him ask Scott about the large piece of coral we have hanging from the ceiling against the wall. After a couple minutes of shuffling around, I heard them walk out and the door shut. The next sound was Lota’s footsteps coming back into the bedroom.
As I now watch the steady stream of heavy raindrops fall and hear them on the slightly pitched roof of our back room, I feel bad that Scott’s out there. Originally, they were going to take Brian’s boat to another part of Douglas in an effort to get where others haven’t yet been on the highly hunted island. But the marine weather didn't look good - yesterday there were whitecaps in the channel - so no boat. In either case, they’re mostly relying on their own two feet to take them up a mountain and into deer. This isn’t typical Southeast precipitation, that ever present drizzle. Right now, it’s full on rain.
When Scott gets a deer - it could be today or it could be later this season - it’ll be our only taste of subsistence. We no longer catch fish or pick berries, so no more cases of jarred smoked salmon or different colored jams and jellies. But soon - I have faith - our freezer will be filled with deer roasts and packages of homemade burger and sausage. I won’t have to buy beef, like I did yesterday from Fred Meyer, because it was on sale and because I was hoping it would become a good luck charm of sorts. I secretly hope it will languish away in the back of the freezer, so unappealing looking next to the chunks covered in white freezer paper. Perhaps we’ll even have to use the chest freezer we bought used in the beginning of August when Scott first went out hunting.
Yesterday we went to the glacier and, with the tourists gone, we walked over to Nugget Falls with Lota freely off his leash. Two eagles sat on an iceberg near the edge of the lake and I thought it was magical. Scott made fun of me for even noticing. In the background, the mountainside had hints of yellow and orange. I took the picture in my mind because I had left my phone in Scott’s truck and Scott had to remind me of that simple premise. I really had to force myself to enjoy our walk for what it was and not because I’d be able to Instagram it later.
It really was beautiful out even with the grey clouds above us that opened up quickly with heavy rain catching the few people without raincoats off guard. When everyone else left the falls area, Scott lingered behind and I joined him. The heavy rain passed as quickly as it had arrived and we got a solitary moment with the falls before we walked away.
Scott and I have hundreds of moments like these, when it’s just the two of us or, for more than a year now, the three of us surrounded by natural beauty. We walk an endless amount of miles and talk about everything, but it’s when we’re still and quiet that everything seems just right.
I went to the bathroom and stumbled into the kitchen to get some water to cure a bad headache - a result of a cheap bottle of wine and bad fried food from the restaurant last night - and gave Scott a kiss before I climbed back into bed. I woke up for minutes when I heard Brian’s voice in the house, in our new house for the first time. I heard him ask Scott about the large piece of coral we have hanging from the ceiling against the wall. After a couple minutes of shuffling around, I heard them walk out and the door shut. The next sound was Lota’s footsteps coming back into the bedroom.
As I now watch the steady stream of heavy raindrops fall and hear them on the slightly pitched roof of our back room, I feel bad that Scott’s out there. Originally, they were going to take Brian’s boat to another part of Douglas in an effort to get where others haven’t yet been on the highly hunted island. But the marine weather didn't look good - yesterday there were whitecaps in the channel - so no boat. In either case, they’re mostly relying on their own two feet to take them up a mountain and into deer. This isn’t typical Southeast precipitation, that ever present drizzle. Right now, it’s full on rain.
When Scott gets a deer - it could be today or it could be later this season - it’ll be our only taste of subsistence. We no longer catch fish or pick berries, so no more cases of jarred smoked salmon or different colored jams and jellies. But soon - I have faith - our freezer will be filled with deer roasts and packages of homemade burger and sausage. I won’t have to buy beef, like I did yesterday from Fred Meyer, because it was on sale and because I was hoping it would become a good luck charm of sorts. I secretly hope it will languish away in the back of the freezer, so unappealing looking next to the chunks covered in white freezer paper. Perhaps we’ll even have to use the chest freezer we bought used in the beginning of August when Scott first went out hunting.
Yesterday we went to the glacier and, with the tourists gone, we walked over to Nugget Falls with Lota freely off his leash. Two eagles sat on an iceberg near the edge of the lake and I thought it was magical. Scott made fun of me for even noticing. In the background, the mountainside had hints of yellow and orange. I took the picture in my mind because I had left my phone in Scott’s truck and Scott had to remind me of that simple premise. I really had to force myself to enjoy our walk for what it was and not because I’d be able to Instagram it later.
It really was beautiful out even with the grey clouds above us that opened up quickly with heavy rain catching the few people without raincoats off guard. When everyone else left the falls area, Scott lingered behind and I joined him. The heavy rain passed as quickly as it had arrived and we got a solitary moment with the falls before we walked away.
Scott and I have hundreds of moments like these, when it’s just the two of us or, for more than a year now, the three of us surrounded by natural beauty. We walk an endless amount of miles and talk about everything, but it’s when we’re still and quiet that everything seems just right.
posted by Siapiau | 11:19 AM
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