From a tree stand

I breathed out condensation from my oak-tree. I listened to the sounds of dripping sleet and I watched snowflakes spiral down to earth. I huddled dry and warm against late November’s bite. Archery season was long gone, and I was still in the woods.

I looked downhill; I let my eyes settle on the creek and worked my eyes uphill, into an oak stand and the beginnings of a  thicket. I allowed my eyes to naturally pick up movement against a white-blanket backdrop. To the south the rhododendron thicket thickened, I found gaps and listened, nothing. I moved west. I hid my rifle under my bulky-orange coat, protected the scope from the dripping sky and occupied my mind with daydreams of deer. I saw a flash of a deer, up the hill in the fog. It was gone quick, and I was lucky to see it.  

I sat on the cloud line. The valley below ducked beneath the cloud like a child lying beneath his or her smoke filled his bedroom. Uphill, the trees grew tall into a white-gray cloud of obscurity. I looked for the horizon line; but the forest floor and the between-trees-sky blended into one another. Time drifted by, the ratio of snowflakes to rain rose, and then the rain came back. At three o’clock the weather changed. The precipitation stopped, the cloud rose and a slight breeze from the southwest kicked up. Blue-birds flew around my tree, foraging and beating the cold from their feathered wings.

A red fox appeared; its red-orange coat shone brilliantly against the white snow. I watched as it picked a careful, yet quick path through the rhododendron thicket. I brought my rifle-scope to my eye to watch it more closely. It traveled by instinct from thicket to thicket, peering here, sniffing there. It came right for me and I watched silently, rapt in its natural beauty. When she came within twenty yards I could hear her footsteps in the soft snow. She left the cover of the rhododendrons. She slowed, and climbed onto a downed tree, only five yards away.

The red fox paused, took a step and then she stopped completely on the downed tree. This was the first time I saw her motionless. I noticed her shoulders; I wondered how her orange coat kept her dry and warm. She stuck out her snout and smelled. She took a graceful leap; nose first, front paws curled back, and back legs exploding. Her body curved in a red arc and thump! She landed snout first, buried her face three inches deep in the snow, leaves and forest floor. I heard a squeak, and the fox came up from the underground with a dead mouse in her jaws.

She put the mouse down, crouched low and looked around. She focused onto my boot-prints at the base of my tree, and then she looked up; right at me. Only then did I notice my mouth was hanging open. We held eye contact for a moment and then she looked back at her prey, and slowly backed away. She glanced at me again and then the mouse, she kept backing away. Not wanting to leave, not to waste food, not after a successful hunt; but she had to choice. The fox didn't run, but it reluctantly abandoned her prize at my feet, backed away and then turned for cover.

I wore an orange coat, but the real hunter went away and I was left sitting in a tree with a gun and trying to understand something I never will. 

Fiction: Goodnight Irene

“Okay, thanks for the call, you stay dry, and we’ll see you in a few days.” Sarah tucked her frizzy damp hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to the kitchen. The bean and vegetable stew was bubbling and it gave the farm house a pleasant aroma. The bread was being reheated in the oven and two jams already sat on the table. Sarah finished off her drink and poured another.

The door swung open; Maya, Jake and Arrow bustled inside. Maya’s red hair was wet, curly and cut short. She hung her raincoat on a hook and slipped out of her muck boots. Arrow followed Jake into the far-room; they left a muddy trail across the hardwood floor.
 “That’s a hell of a rain,” Maya greeted.
 “I just got off the phone with Val, she said River’s floodin’ right now up in Selinsgrove.”
 “Shit…How bad is it?”Without washing, Maya threw the Swiss chard and Kale into a bowl and set it on the table.
 “Too early to tell; that’s where the Garber’s folks are from, they live right on the River…along with the rest of the town.” Sarah stared out the window and listened to the pounding rain; Maya finished setting the table for dinner.
“How’d the truck run today?” Sarah looked at Maya as she asked.
“Same as last time, second gear is missing and it smells hot.” Maya paused; smiled, “and the windshield’s still cracked; still no insurance.”
Sarah chuckled. “Want a drink? The bottle still has plenty.”
“Not a chance staying dry tonight,” Maya poured a drink. “I hope the folks upriver are safe. Have you been down to look at her?”
“Yeah, I walked down about an hour ago. It’s higher than I’ve ever seen. How’d we do at market today?” Sarah changed the subject.
“The eggs and the mesclun mixes sold out; not much else sold, slow from the rain I guess. Oh, and Richard says Hi.”
 “How is he doing?” “He’s worried about our place tonight, JAKE!” Maya called to the other room; “TIME FOR DINNER!...He might come over tonight to help out.”
“It’ll be past his bedtime.” Sarah smiled.
“Anything from the road today?
“A few quarts of the romas and three jams.” Did you remember to pick up Arrow’s eye meds?”
“Shit, I forgot; I’ll grab it tomorrow, do we need anything else at the vets?”
“No,” Sarah took a drink of whiskey, and the rain fell hard.

Outside the west window the green hills ran down to a swelling brown-river. No trains were running. To the south lay the Mason Dixon Line and the River lazily twisted its way to the Chesapeake Bay. 50 miles north, the ridges and valleys of the Pennsylvania Appalachian Mountains soaked up the hard rain. On the land-side of the tracks grew three acres of organic vegetables, and 50-some hens did their best to stay dry. The rain brought a relentless pounding, and the River slowly rose. The family ate and drank quickly; steam escaped from the pot and Arrow sat by the door with anxiety. The spouting carried the water off the house and downhill, toward the River.

“Jim dropped off the bales and sandbags this afternoon; he could barely get up the lane with an empty load.” Sarah dipped her bread in the stew. “I figure we’ll be down there most of the night. I better make more coffee.” She tightened her lips and showed her forehead wrinkles.
“You don’t think it will rise over the...?” Maya whispered.
“It never has before,” Sarah took a breath. “Jake how was your day?”
“Uh, good, Mr. Jacobs said it hasn’t rained this much in 50 years. Is that true?”
“Could be, it’s not done yet” Sarah replied
“He also said that school will be called if the roads flood,” mentioned Jake, caught somewhere between excitement and fear.
“Good, we could use some help around here,” joked Maya. The lights flickered off then on again.
“Jake would you please red off the table and wash up?” Sarah asked and stood up, “I need to grab some candles, and then you’re Mom and I will need to head down to the fields in a bit.” Jake nodded; and asked. “Is it gonna flood?”
 Sarah and Maya held eye contact for a brief moment; Maya answered, “We don’t know, honey. It depends on how the River rises, but we could be down there late, you and Arrow can look after the house. If the electricity goes out, there are candles on the mantle… Make sure they’re out when you go to bed.”
“Okay” She hugged him.

Sarah and Maya put on their raincoats and boots and walked down the hill to the River.