Today we close another chapter in the Johnson book of hunting. Luke shot his big buck for the season. Everyone was proud for him, and I was thrilled. Philip has already harvested a buck and a doe, and Landen has been quite a copy-cat of that. Four deer lay at rest in my freezer, and now, with Luke's buck lying in waiting (aka the big red cooler), we must bid farewell to the life of the huntsman. From this day on, at least until next fall, our only source of enjoyment will be the incessant story-telling and comparisons of each wilderness pursuit...oh, and the venison chili.
I insist that I shall begin my own hunting excursions. It seems rather appealing to rise before dawn on a weekend morning, leave without a word, and remain at-large without household responsibility until well after dusk. My scheme begins to crumble when I consider not only the use of firearms, but also the use of outdoor "facilities". I'll keep working on a plan.
In other news, the tree is up. The door has a wreath. And I think that'll about do it! Our house is a dark shadow of a rectangle, except for the porch fixture that barely provides enough lighting for said wreath to be seen. We are bad, bad Marshallites...what with the "Wonderland of Lights" and all. Our lack of luminosity is an embarrassment to our community for sure. But Philip says "They'll get over it....I ain't staplin' a bunch o' junk to my house when I gotta take it off again in a couple weeks...." I'll spare you the remainder of the thought-provoking speech he delivers each time I suggest that a few outdoor lights would be festive. I'm not so interested in "sharing the light" that I actually go outside with a ladder myself....so I concur. The tree looks good, and my scrooge is really handsome, so all is well.
Come over anytime for a candy cane off the tree. Seriously, the girls are waiting. Right now. They wanna get one down and give it away. And we have venison with fascinating narratives to accompany. So come when you can. Happy Holidays.
