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 Today was like most typical Saturdays here in the Great Smokey Mountains. It's now the first of September, all 3-D tournaments are over for the most part and the opening day of archery whitetail season looms only weeks away. The shadows are beginning to grow longer and for us we have slowed down...a little. Our basement seems to have been in constant motion for the past few weeks. Boys mostly (between the ages of 15-19) trying to get their bows tuned for the fast approaching bow season. These avid bowhunters are from the High School where my husband and I coach the Hunter Safety Competition Archery Team.Today though, was catch up day here at home. Trying to conquer the laundry mountain would be an obstacle course within itself let alone the house-cleaning marathon that had to be ran. Arrows to fletch, broadheads to tune, camo.... Oh No! The camo has to be gone through to make sure it's scent free and UV protected. We will never be ready in time for the opening day of archery season! It's as though the month before opening day is a blur and to me it's the equivalent to climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in a day. The days are getting shorter now as well, so about 7:00 PM I ran outside to let our 16-year-old Labrador and our seven-year-old coonhound out for their evening escapade. My mind was a blur of all the things that just had to be done over the next few days to catch us up for the next few weeks. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye something caught my attention.
There is nothing that smells quite like the woods when the leaves start to fall and the sun is fading into the horizon. Your memories are flooded with your first adventure to the woods long ago. The smells, the sights and everything that happened is etched into your heart and soul forever. What feels better than getting up at 3:30 AM, equipment being loaded the night before, jumping in the truck and taking off on the opening day of archery season, stepping out of the truck and taking that first step into the woods? Memories of the first day and the memories of your last hunt, time well spent in God's ultimate sanctuary. |
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The mountains off in the distance seemed to be on fire as the breeze blew their gold and red tipped leaves. It made me imagine the mountains had adorned their colorful party gowns for the most elegant ball of the season. As the wind twirls their leaves in unison they sparkle and glitter with each delicate breeze. I just stood there, looking, smiling, and thinking.
As I stood there mesmerized, I realized that all the everyday things that we all worry about so much will somehow get done. The arrows will be perfectly fletched, the broadheads will be tuned and the camo will be scent free and UV protected. We will be ready for our first adventure of the season. Opening day will find us snuggled quietly in our tree stands, eyes straining for the first rays of light, our hearts pounding wildly as the day slowly wakes up around us. Yes, we will be ready, and maybe this will be the year of the monster buck. Maybe, this will be the year of filling our tags and freezers, or maybe this will be the year we all learn to make the most of each day that we are given and be able to spend time afield with our cherished hunting companions.