Track 1...

There is a sound track to this particular time of year.  One that is soothing almost to the point of a bedtime story for me.  

It's my Dad's deer hunting lingo.  I could listen to it all day long.  The names of secret spots are almost poetic and the sweeping hand gestures that accompany these directions and past tales of success can lull me to contentment like the dancing flames of a campfire... 

"To Polly Wog on over to Lost and then around the Timbered Knoll and up the Black Ridge.  Take that old logging trail, cross the cattle guard up to Cooks and then come on around to Bone Flat."  His arms make wide sweeps and his hands bend left and right as he figuratively weaves through stream beds and follows forgotten fence lines guiding us to the big Muley he spotted earlier in the month.

I love that I am privy to this second language.  I love that my family full of boys gets to listen to this tune that I love so much and that they too get to follow Grampa's memory GPS and go to places where not many have gone.

I love that RyGar has become fluent in this language of tradition and that his knowledge of these family stomping grounds surpasses mine and will be passed lovingly down to these little men that bugle like pros into paper towel tubes and can spot deer and elk with the best of them.

And this year we tasted success once again.  I was the lucky tag holder for the general season deer hunt and after ten minutes of light on opening morning, I had my prize.  It wasn't a monster, but let's be honest... I'm not all that picky, and what I lack in discernment, I make up for in marksmanship.  

 I loved sharing a quiet morning with my hunting partner and guide, RyGar.  I loved that when we made it back to home base, the littles ran out to greet us with Grandma to "see the deer".



I love that these little tiny boys are ours.  And I love my husband who is teaching them to be good men, to have a love and respect for God's country and his creations.  I love that they are curious and healthy and strong and have great examples to look to.

I love that an entire weekend of mountains and hunting and cousins and four-wheeler rides and play doh and grandparents and uncles and aunts seems to be the perfect concoction for a happy weekend for me and my littles.

And I love that they wear themselves right out and then spend the drive home dreaming about the next time...

When we press play on one of our very favorite tracks of life.