Hunting Season

          Throughout the years it has been interesting to be born on the last day of rifle hunting season.  As a child I was bribed to celebrate my birthday early, and every year I delightfully agreed knowing this meant I got to open my presents and eat cake before my actual birthday.  To me, this was the only impact that hunting season had on me, but as I have grown older I have developed a stronger opinion about the event. 

            My dad’s side of the family owns 380 acres of land in Evart, Michigan a town that has a few gas stations, and just got a McDonalds in the last 10 years.  This land is absolutely gorgeous, and I am truly blessed to spend summers and falls walking throughout it.  We own a small cottage on this land, which has been kept in its original state, a wish of my Grandfather who believes technology ruins the impact nature has on us.  I tend to avoid this cottage during the later parts of fall as this is when my whole family piles in to spend their next few weeks hunting.   Hunting to me, seems silly being called a sport.  I can understand and respect people who hunt as a means for providing meat for their family.  What I do not understand is stuffing the heads of deer and mounting them on walls as a trophy or “conversation starter.”  How would you feel if deer hunted humans and stuffed their heads placing them on their living room mantels to act as conversation starters?  How about if you constantly had to be cautious when walking outside a month every year because deer might dress in clothes to match their surroundings and jump out shooting you?  It seems a little silly to me when reversed, which is where my frustration comes into play.  Killing something else, especially something that cannot defend itself is not and should not be considered a sport. 

A Trip in the Woods

There is something completely satisfying about sitting in a hot tub surrounded overhead by beautiful Oak trees.  Looking into the distance I can see a lush acre of greenery where deer sometimes wander.  Just beyond this is a forest of trees with a small stream running through them.  These trees have lost most of their leaves, but the ones that remain vary in shades of orange. I am fortunate enough to be set in this scene each fall when my parents open our hot tub.  Coming home this weekend I had no agenda besides studying, helping my sister with wedding plans, and relaxing from a stressful week.  These last few weeks have been jam packed with tests, papers galore, thesis preparation, and graduate school applications.  I have been overwhelmed and needed a weekend to go home and get away from everything.  When I heard that my parents opened our hot tub and heated it, I was beyond excited.  I jumped inside the tingly hot water, rested my head against the side, and admired this scene around me. 

I have honestly not ventured out into these woods in quite some time, especially since settling in Kalamazoo.  (I have also noticed that this class has basically forced me to consider all of the things that I have not experienced in nature since I was younger.)  I have planned on using these woods to shoot pictures for the children’s story I wrote for this class later this weekend.  I have written my children’s story based on these woods and the kids I babysit.  I called them this week asking them to go hike with me in the woods, so I can take the pictures that go along with the story.  After losing myself in this scene as I soak in hot water, I am probably as excited about this trip into the woods as the children I babysit.  

Sarcasm-Winter Style

Today I woke up, sleeping under a comforter, blanket, and sheets shivering cold having the realization that winter is approaching.  This feeling always puts me in a state of disgust.  I am not ready for this season, as it is my least favorite.  I am not ready for the struggle every morning to get out of a bed warmed by my heating blanket to step onto an ice cold wood floor.  I am not ready for the mornings I have to get up an extra twenty minutes to scrap the solid ice off my windshield and heat my car.  Most of all, I am definitely not ready for the stupidity of Michigan drivers sliding all over the road.

I am not the best driver by any means, but for some reason have been able to control my driving better then the majority of Michigan drivers each winter.  I am not sure why, but Michigan drivers seem to have amnesia on how to drive during the first snowstorm of each year.  Whoever thought it was a good idea to speed down a snowy road covered with black ice, jotting through the lanes of traffic, was sadly mistaken.  My other favorite is the car that appears to be a first-time driver in the snow, going 5 mph holding up all sorts of traffic.  These extremes seem to litter the road, causing numerous accidents throughout the season.  Then we have the gawkers of the accidents who decide to slam on their brakes to look at the crash, causing other accidents in the act.  So please winter, can we just skip the snow this season?

A Day at the Pumpkin Patch

            With the start of fall arriving my friend Sarah prompted the idea of going to a pumpkin patch.  I was hesitant about the idea since I had not been to a pumpkin patch since I was in elementary school.  I remembered the trips we used to take to the pumpkin patch every year in Montrose, Michigan.  My mother owned a daycare center and I remember the anticipation we all felt sitting in the back seat of the minivan on the drive there.  We knew our day would be filled with picking apples, and a pumpkin to later carve, getting homemade doughnuts, seeing the cider mill, and our absolute favorite, the wagon ride through the orchard.  The wagon ride went through a trail that had different scenes made out of pumpkins.  I distinctly remember the scene of pirates, the Disney scene, the Scooby-Doo scene, and different fairytale scenes.  In remembering all the excitement I felt as a child I decided it was a trip that was needed to get in the spirit of the fall season.  We headed out to the apple orchard on Gull Road in full excitement. 

            I felt like a small child revisiting these old memories as I jumped out of the minivan I now own, that I recall sitting in the back of year after year going to this joyous event.  It was a brisk, autumn day and I noticed the leaves beginning to change to a burnt orange on the trees surrounding us.  We decided our first stop in our day would be to jump on the wagon ride.   To be honest, this wagon ride was completely different and boring compared to the one I remember going on at Montrose Apple Orchard.  Granted there were not any pumpkin scenes, and I was ten years older, but I was completely unsatisfied with the ride.  Although the excitement was nowhere near what I felt as a child, I did spend the time in the wagon ride looking at the leaves changing and the corn fields that surrounded us.  We spent the other parts of our day eating homemade doughnuts and cider, picking our pumpkins we later carved, going through the corn maze, but the most significant part of the day was this wagon ride.  It was relaxing just to have this twenty minute ride to appreciate the changes in nature around us that would be staying for some time.