Monday, November 18

Tree Stand

Open air floated beneath my feet and a large field lay rolling before me.  Shriveled apples swaying out of the reach of deer in branches and little gray-white birds fluttering by my shoulders, padded thick with layers of wool flannel and my husband's hunting coat.
Here I sat in the name of romance. 
Slow and steady, through and around, my creamy hook knit frosted green yarn, the same color of the harvest stripped field before me.  On the third row of stitches, Sean's elbow just barely tipped against mine and I frozenly looked down.  A tender footed button buck flicked his ears and tipped his head, then round nose down again into the beans the combine missed. 
In the distance, from our hilly perch, the lights of the city began to softly light.
Far across the field in the beginning shadows, a doe and fawns stepped into the lit field.  Sean ever so slowly slid binoculars up to his eyes.  My hook froze in time. Our first spied button buck tender toed his cautious way through harvested bean field.
We sat until the last light was pushed from the sky by a bar of gray.  Cold and stiff we climbed down for home and warmth and dinner.
Our date in the tree stand was over.

1 comment:

Bonnie said...

I don't know what I love more: the fact that you had a date in a tree stand, or that you took your crocheting along!
(however, I understand dates wherever/whenever you can. We haven't been on one in 6 months.)