As the last day of Georgia hunting season comes to a close, Josey is in his place of peace. A place that allows his heart and soul to recharge. His memories of simpler times come freely to mind. Yet despite the joy and respite this place provides, it also comes with a price. Again I find myself comparing Josey to his native ancestors, whose oneness with the living earth was practical as well as spiritual. The following is his story of the end of his bright season in the woods. HLA
“In 30 minutes it will be dark and deer season will be over. I did not hunt like I normally do because of issues surrounding my retirement. Hopefully soon I will receive word of my full retirement and we can get on with our lives. I’ve written a lot about the last day of deer season in every book I’ve had published. It’s a sad time for me. My bride and our boys know this sad time will last for a few weeks. I’m ok with calling it depression, but I realize some would shy away from that word.
My perch this evening is in the only hard woods we have. The rest of the farm is pines and the swamp. The hardwoods remind me of my childhood woods, but our house was surrounded by pines. My parents called that spot the Whispering Pines. It’s written on the fireplace in their home. I believe if you listen hard the pines do whisper, but I’m not sure everyone can hear what they have to say. Tonight the wind is calm and the woods have an eerie feeling to them. To this day, hurricane Michael’s mark is still here. I was blessed he spared this old Magnolia that I attached my perch too. By far, Magnolia is my favorite tree to put a perch and blind in, with those big green leaves to provide cover.
My bride and oldest boy came over today after lunch, and I cooked them a late campfire breakfast. The youngest always blesses the food, and without a doubt his colorful words bring a smile with his thankful words. We cleaned the cabin out and hauled all our hunting gear home. The process of cleaning the cabin brings an easy memory from the cabin my parents had. The feeling of sadness has not changed in 40 years. Just like my father assured me, I assure the boys there will be more nights at the cabin. The youngest hands me three more rocks to place in the one window sill to signify how many times we have stayed there. My hope is we will outgrow the window sill and need a shelf.
The birds have stopped chirping, so darkness is near. The temperature has dropped and my fingers are starting to get numb. I have the same thoughts every year on this day. Will I be able to climb my perches next season and sit amongst these trees who accept me for me? Will I be able to provide food for my family and others when we have extra? Will the words to you flow like they do when I sit on my perch?
Knowing there are no guarantees, the uncertainty of the next season leaves me sad. To me (and I’m no Dr. and do not want to be), depression is a natural occurrence for the mind to process things in a slower, less intense way. The problem occurs when the mind thinks being in that less intense state of processing should be permanent. I do not fear the depressed state, and I respect it for it’s intended purpose- but I am aware it needs a guardian. I also think guilt is a great emotion or state of mind, but it too needs a guardian.
I can still see the woods around me, so it’s not over yet. Some years I’ve sat for hours past dark and watched the stars cast their light down on me. The wind has picked up and the magnolia leaves are waving at me. Not sure if they are saying hi or good bye.
There is a place on my parents farm where I, as a child, felt like I belonged. I did not feel I was walking into the woods, but into my home. It is hard to explain that one without sounding like I hit my head, but it’s true. When I’m out there in man’s world, I wish I was here. I guess that’s what makes me sad. I worry that feeling will be gone if I leave here.
The day is over and this new typewriter is lighting my face up like a spot light. As I walk back to the Jeep I admire the pines looking down on me. They remind me of the ones who watched over me as a child. I’m confident I’m not the only one who feels more at home in the un-manicured woods that God has created; versus the plastic world that mankind has created. I’m also confident that very few will write about it for others to read. I had to accept years ago, that in order to shine the light on this somewhat “enlightened” path of life, I had to put my true self out there.
No matter what, we all need a place we belong and that feels like home. We need a place to be accepted for who we are. We need a place where it’s ok to have a great day and a sad day. We need a place where our heart is not as heavy, our soul is not as burdened, and our mind is free to think that a tree watches over us. My goal is for a brief moment to give you insight into my sanctuary. To have all your five senses embrace these surroundings, and just maybe you will find in my written words a place you too can call home. Even though you have never been here.” WLV
