Dealing with some health problems and pain a lot of times makes my emotions race, and then my memories flood, I reflect on memories everyday, it is a great medicine.
I could go on and on about fall, it is my favorite time of the year. The colors hand painted by God himself overtaking every tree in every forest, the smell of the cool crisp leaf shedding air, the sparkle of the morning frost. Darkness being overtaken by the morning sun coming up over the trees in a beautifully ugly secluded hunting “shanty”. Tree stands, hunting blinds, rifles, shotguns, crossbows, chili, time, family and people past. End of day stories, laughter and thankfulness.
Not knowing at the time how these events and memories would benefit me so much in the years to come. So many things… My Dad’s hunting seasons scrambled eggs for breakfast. Dad, Gary and I sitting on the bench seat of an old red Ford pickup, making our rounds on snow covered back roads to different long time family visited hunting spots. Dad’s 30-30 displayed in the back window gun rack. Gary and I’s pockets filled with 20 gauge “Pumpkin Balls”, and our single shot “Pardners” at our sides.
Deer season lunchtime bean soup at Grandma G’s. Shotgun walks with Gradpap G and “King”, Grandpap’s over-energized German Shepherd hunting companion, laughing and loving his crazy, but successful, risk taking hunting style and company. Grandma F, making sure I had enough blankets for a comfy sleep and then tucking me in every night while staying at her house for the week of buck season, no greater gentleness, And love!!!! Grandpa F sitting on the bench awaiting reports of successful hunts, and not so successful hunting stories, while laughter echoed in the background of the full kitchen like an airlifted medicinal music.
Then there was the “hunting camp”, the smell of dust, and cigarette smoke hit you entering the door, while filling your cup with kegged birch beer. Followed by a Smokey haze coming from the homemade two barrel wood burner that when the outside wind forced by the chimney it would occasionally burp out a plume of smoke, adding to the treasured memory etching scent.
So much laughter coming from each “bunk” room and living room, Rudy could be heard in the back with his wall shaking laugh. Fred being picked on by several. Rusty heading out the door donning schin high rubber “Barn Boots” to help with evenings cow milking. Billy taking slack for always shooting the buck poll buck. Bert taking time to sit in his bunk and sharpen my small buck pocket knife, and what seemed like hundreds of other conversations, laughs and memories being made all in that small treasured spot in time.
O, to go back in time. Things were simple, at least it appeared simple to us kids.
“Sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory”
Think about the season you’re in, and think about the ones watching, take time to give them great memories to look back at when they have days turn not so simple.
I am so thankful that God gave us the ability to keep and replay memories. I am so thankful that God blessed me with these times, and all the ones that made it what it was, and for having so many more stored in my memory bank.