ëTime outí renews the spirit

by Dawn Slade
Posted 11/20/02

The following was written in the fall of 2000.

Momís Time

Though I automatically felt guilty (must be a mom thing), I knew I needed some time to myself. So, I left the boys in the very capable hands of their father and headed into the woods in the early morn.

Feeling like a bull in a China shop as the twigs and fall leaves snap and crunch beneath my hiking boots, I realize I will not be seeing any wildlife until I sit patiently for quite some time.

But moments after that notion buzzed in my mind, I find out I was wrong. A hawk passes overhead as I trek on down the trail.

I was looking for just the right spot, when suddenly, a doe flees from my noisy footsteps. I stop and admire what a beauty she is, the white tail bounding off through the trees and out into the open pipeline.

That guilt I felt previously, quickly fades and is replaced with awe.

Then a dilemma arises. Do I tell my husband?

He, who spent most of yesterday patiently waiting with his bow in hand for that perfect shot, never even saw one.

Me and my camera, a perfect photo shot at hand. He and his bow. Oh, how I love the irony.

Yeah, like I can keep this a secret!

I finally locate "the-perfect-spot" in which I choose to park myself (quite comfortably I might add), and pull out paper and pen.

If Iím lucky, I might even get some wildlife shots.

Another hawk silently flies overhead and a couple of owls are "talking" up a storm.

The acorns are falling fast and furious. I put my cap back on - just in case one decides to land on my noggin.

Itís amazing how loud those little nuts can be.

Every so often, I pause from writing and soak in my surroundings. Thereís so much to observe simply by listening, yet I wouldnít have witnessed the hawk had I not looked up at just the right moment.

I can hear a couple coyotes in the distance, but perhaps itís only the farmerís dog doing a darn good impersonation.

Maybe Iím getting paranoid, but I get the feeling someoneís watching me.

Thereís definitely something lurking there, but I do my best not to give in to the urge to turn around and gawk. I want it, whatever "it" might be, to get a little closer, so I wait.

On my right, a larger critter is heading my way. I donít dare turn the page in my notebook for fear itíll make too much noise.

This must be what itís like for deer hunters sitting in a stand. I swear my heartbeat is echoing throughout the forest and that every wild creature within a hundred yards can hear it.

Iím still amazed that doe let me get within 25 yards of her.

Whatever that critter might be, itís making its way closer. Sitting within 30 yards of a fox den, I wonder if that might be my latest company.

My "perfect spot" is just on the east ridge of a valley where some of the wildlife tend to bed down. Unfortunately, I got a later start this morning than I intended, but at least I managed to put a good breakfast in the boysí bellies (thereís that quilt thing again).

Next time, I do believe Iíll let them fend for themselves so that I might enjoy the beauty and tranquility of the early dawn.

Time to get the camera in ready position and ditch the writing supplies.

I finally spot my company - nothiní but a lousy grey squirrel. Those little rats sure can make noise!

As the morning stretches on, the sun warms up our little spot on earth, heating up that infamous Minnesota bird - the mosquito. Give me pesky flies and stinging bees any day over the incessant drone of the blood-sucking mosquito.

The neighborhood is finally waking up. Dogs are barking to be fed, cars and trucks sputter to life and the cows bellow in the distance.

Itís time for a stroll to see what I can kick up. Lock and load - the cameraís ready.

The salt lick has been hit quite a bit and the wild blackberries have all been gobbled up. The birds are chirpiní and the squirrels are even busier now.

The shutter on my camera and the crunching leaves beneath my feet have made way too much noise and mosquitoes are now flying up my nose.

Mother Nature is telling me itís time to go home.

Back to the world of mothering, but without the guilt. I realize just how much I needed this time alone, or should I say, this time with nature.