The Cold Stove

[Mike P]

The Cold Stove


"Dis is da last one, ya?" she asked in her familiar swedglish. "Ya" I replied back long ago forgoing the word yes and any semblance of proper use of the kings English. It was indeed the last one. It was the last vestige, the last remnant if you will of the deer season. And it was the last time we would sip our coffee and read the morning newspaper soaking up its warmth. The wood burning stove would be shut down.

I stretched it out as long as I could. I didn't want it to end. But like time itself, there is no stopping the inevitable. And this morning she told me it was time. And with her pronouncement also came the end of "my time." It was a new season. And no amount of foot dragging could change that. We had now officially entered "her time."

The hunting season is mine. She knows it. The kids know it. Even some of the older grandkids get it. You do not schedule anything during the season that demands my presence without at least a four week notice. Oh, and submit the request in triplicate. Also please check out the "black out" dates on the calendar that include most of the rut and the entire black powder season. Exceptions will be made for funerals of course, but not weddings.

I paid a kings ransom for "my time." I paid it like taxes, every year without fail. I would be on some jet flying off to lord knows where and the rut would be in full swing. I would answer wake up calls from some unknown voice behind a hotel lobby desk and groggily try to remember what city in what country would greet my new day while smoke was rising from the barrels of muzzleloaders greeting that same day back home. Oh yes, a kings ransom.

The start of "my time" was the season of 2004. I checked out of that hotel. I got off that jet. I would no longer do that. "That" wasn't important anymore. I was fifty-six years old. If I lived the normal lifespan for a man in my country, I had twenty-two years left according to the projection tables commonly accepted. Twenty-two years! And I asked myself how many of those twenty-two could I hunt? I turned the key in the ignition to off and removed it. I determined to hunt as many of them as possible. It had become "my time."

Someone didn't quite see it that way. She had an entirely different take on the situation. For some strange and bizarre reason, she thought it was the dawn of "her time." There was no justification for this! She didn't miss any hunting seasons. She was always home with the kids. While I was paying that kings ransom she was throwing precious few coins in the collection basket. And it was "her time?" I think not!

Of course I was wrong. She told me so. And if I didn't understand that, she would be glad to tell me again. It became crystal clear to me that I had not yet paid that bill in full. The king's ransom had not been enough. The price of poker had just gone up. And the negotiations started.

If there was a "my time" there was going to be a "her time" as well. There was no getting around that no matter what tactic I might employ. It was already a fifty fifty proposition from the starting point. It could get ugly quick. I had to cut my losses! I folded like a card chair and took the first deal offered. I got the hunting season. She got everything else.

And now the wood burning stove would go cold. I felt a chill creep down the back of my neck as the winds of the new season took hold. And today I take the first tentative steps walking the trail in "her time."

There are seven months till opening day.

Lord help me.

[lscha]

That's beautiful!

Are you going to get a week off just before opener to rest up?

I think it is similar in my situation except reverse. Even though he hunts, he lets me off the hook about most domestic things. I love thoughtful people!

[sumner4991]

Very good read, Mike P.! As always . . .thank you.

As we get older, "our time" becomes more important. I have always considered Thanksgiving day, Friday after, and the weekend following as "my time". I even made it a new hire issue . . .told my employers up front, those days I take off. The bulk of my relatives gather in Virginia every year to hunt, eat, and visit at Thanksgiving. My wife got Christmas and I got Thanksgiving in our unwritten pre-nuptials.

Been working out fine until a couple of years ago . . .I decided three days of hunting wasn't near enough. Re-negotiating the pre-nuptials was rough. But, worth every month it took.

[wildwindom]

Love your posts mike they NEVER get boring. I love wood burning stoves nothing beats that smell in the air. Just wish i had one but not to good in a 74 mobil home dont want to see it go up in smoke , plus dont want my little ones to get burned. But one of these days mine and the wifes dream will come true, the house in the woods with the wood burning stoves and all the woods i can hunt in!!

[R.J.]

Great read ! ..

Mike wrote :

Exceptions will be made for funerals of course, but not weddings.

That rule holds firm in my family circle as well !

[Cossack]

I cashed in my work chips, from an equally stressful position, 3 years ago. At 65+ I had less projected "me time" than you apparently do, so I divested myself of any semblance of stress inducing activities related to the former work, as well as advisory boards and committees. The first two years were to be for me ...exclusively; I promised to look for 'more meaningful' challenges after that. I took up crossbows (3), making my own strings, arrows and bow maintenance equipment. Rekindled my long neglected love for reloading metallic cartridges (18 rifle and 'hand cannon' chamberings, including 6 wildcats), fishing, gardening, cooking and just 'walking the land.'
I too fire up the wood stove....in the shop I built just for messin'. (Yesterday was devoted to making lighted nock, a target tripod, wood duck nests, and hand-splitting two trees for future stove days.)
But deer time is special. Most days I can walk to a stand from home. On other days I enjoy a friend's place nearby, with 500 acres dedicated just for deer under the Quality Deer Management program. Success has long ago ceased to be tallied in kills. Now, it's coups.... the planes Indians practice of touching an enemy in battle with the bare hand. Similarly, I paint 'em with the crossbow scope reticule, touch the trigger and let them walk. There were several dozen last year; including one very nice buck. Ultimately, one found it's way into the freezer (I truly love to cook 'em too).
I'll be 69 in Nov. Blood pressure is down to normal. I just re-upped for a continuation of 'me time'. It takes a face mask (camo, please) to hide the smile that graces my face.

[VixChix]

Awwww.... Mike. It's going to be a long 7 months, isn't it?

Around here we usually share the precious fall months. This year will be different though. Because of the state of the economy and as an alternative to layoffs my husband has to use all his holidays for 2009 before the end of May. His company expects to have worked lined up for the rest of year starting in June. So no time off in fall this year. We'll be taking turns hunting on Saturdays.

[Real McCoy]

We'll be taking turns

If we did more of that - life would be better for all.

[awshucks]

Another fun read! Hope you are both over the flu, Mike.

[vixenmaster]

MikeP very written and put on the board. i thought my hunting time started 4 years ago. wrong! seems every year my mrs has all kinds of her friends that need help. either moving or car repairs or or & so on ! my mrs has all kinds of honey do's lined up specially for hunting season.

[saxman]

Good one Mike

It doesnt sound like hard time though

[mikej]

good read mike

[hetichunter]

What a great read!

I wish i could write like that.

[Grizzly Adam]

"My time" ... just what is that?

I'm gonna have to try and fit that into my vocabulary.

We'll see how they like that!

[maple]

Mike,

No matter how much you try to pout about it, I'm not buying it.
No sympathy for you from this end my friend. Just man up.

You Sir, are a blessed man and you know it.

You're just trying to rattle some cages, aren't ya?

Maple