Manly Maturity

In a world of constant motion.  Days turn to weeks, weeks turn quickly to months, time moves rapidly.  As we near the month of September, this Fall feel is different from others in the recent past.  A damp coolness has settled over the valley and in the high mountains you can find anything from late summer flowers to snow on the peaks. 

Today was a day of unsettled weather.  As if it was grieving the passing of summer, the sky was grey and the winds turbulent.  In the high mountains, the wind could be heard from a far distance.  Rushing, rumbling like a freight train in search of its destiny.  The tree tops rustled and were tossed to and fro as the violent burst of quickness disturbed everything in its path.  Pine needles rained down on the road as we reached our destination.  Hunting was top of the leader board for our agenda today as it always is this time of year.  However, there was different urgency as the need to care and honor our parents was on the forefront. 

 

 

 

My "fine figure of a man" had spotted a cedar tree, down, strategically placed for easy wood getting.  Maturely, hubby and Trevor had secured a wood cutting permit.  So prepared.

The log was still in its place and with manly fortitude, hubby and his brother began the process of getting a load of wood.  Rod, large saw in hand, cut the log into 16" rounds.  Hubby set out to cut these rounds in half.  Surveying the scene, I assessed how I might be of assistance in this manly situation and determined that I would work the half rounds down the hill toward the road.

Maturity.  That's the word that crossed my mind.  Previous wood cutting expeditions with these guys has, at times, yielded different results.  The truth is that full rounds roll to the road much easier than those with a flat side.  The interesting thing is that the full rounds don't stop in the road out of courtesy to those who are working hard to take winter heat home.  They pick up speed, skip over the bank, light once in the middle of the road and keep on goin'.  It's a tough day of  wood cutting when even a couple rounds head for parts unknown by way of the bank.  Maturity.  Manly maturity has shaken hands with these fine men and victory was won when we left our isolated mountain road wood lot with all the rounds we sent off the hill.

On the way out, hunting was once again on the top of the agenda.  Conner, Rod and hubby took a hunt in between the roads.  I was the driver.  "You know what we are up to?"  my "fine figure of a man asked.  "Well sure"  was my reply.  I knew I was expected to drive down, around the switch back and pick them up on the lower portion of the road.   I waited a little bit before starting the heavily laden wood rig and heading down the road toward my destination.  The spot where the road angles back and heads the other direction was a corner I recognized from many previous trips.  I pulled out on the wide spot, pulled out my notebook and pen and started to write.  Pretty sure I got lost in the textures and depth of the varying species of green, lush trees.  Just enjoying my little bit of extreme quiet as the world seemed to melt away and the rush of life came to a halting.  The constant motion I spoke of earlier was now the rush of the wind and the falling of the pine needles. 

Figuring I should be moving toward our meeting place, I once again started the pickup and headed down.  Along side the road was Rod and Conner with the puppies.  Sitting as if they had been there a while.  Where's my man?  He headed down the road in search of his lost pickup.  Nope.  Not lost.  Just delayed.