Keep Calm and Carry On….
words seen on a WWII British motivational poster
(why do I think this sad little persimmon is a reflection of myself? / Julie Cook / 2017)
You didn’t think I could let the year end without having one last ‘hit for the team’
and not share it did you??
Oh, and by the way, Happy New Year!!!
But first let’s take a wistful look back to last year….
Or more accurately…back to yesterday afternoon.
Remember, I still have a hole in my head, stitches in my mouth and an annoying
space where there once was a tooth…still swollen, still uncomfortable,
still having trouble chewing without dropping things randomly from my mouth.
Kind out like our cat Percy who lost most of his teeth as a kitten….
He drops his food from his mouth all the time, right in mid bite,
but unlike a dog, he just lets it sit and moves on to a new bite.
I just try to be a bit discreet…..
So here it was New Year’s Eve day—we didn’t really have much to do…
my tooth, or lack there of, had put the kibosh on any sort of plans….
It was a day that the coldest temperatures of the year were descending,
yet thankfully the weather folks had backed off of any sort of snow event,
So…. what better way to spend the day than to head out to wander
through the woods?
I was well layered…
turtleneck, sweater, vest, waxed barn coat, jeans, trusty lined LL Bean boots,
gloves, earmuffs and a scarf—I had my trusty camera in tow and was excited
to be out, breathing in fresh air, up off the couch from nursing the hole
in my head and ready to take some lovely pictures in which to share…with you…
The woods are so open this time of year, allowing yearning eyes to take in
a quiet vastness.
And there is such a palpable stillness.
The only sound one hears is the crunch of leaves underneath wandering boots.
I had hoped to find and capture a few little surprises here and there–
for despite most things being long dead, hibernating or in a state of waiting..
the woods still have much to offer.
(drying and dying persimmons linger on the limbs / Julie Cook / 2017)
(lingering ink berries / Julie Cook / 2017)
(a hooked bush…where a buck deer has rubbed its horns / Julie Cook / 2017)
(a large gall on a tree / Julie Cook / 2017)
(hidden little deer moss / Julie Cook / 2017)
I was lagging behind my husband, as I kept stopping to take pictures.
We had made our way deep into the woods, finally stopping at the creek.
At this juncture along this meandering creek there happens to be an old fallen
tree bridging both sides of the creek.
I’ve told my husband 100 times, I can’t balance like I use to and I’d rather look for
a different place to cross where I could slide down the edge of the bank,
hop across a more shallow area of the creek, while scooting up the
other bank on the other side….
It made perfect sense.
But he kept insisting that I cross the tree as I’ve done it before…
agitated pondering what in the heck was wrong with me today???
And whereas, yes I have crossed it before, still with trepidation, but that was when
the weather was warmer and I was not layered like a chunky eskimo
with a camera slung over my arm, while being full of codeine.
I had been feeling like a fuzzy slug, so at this particular moment, while staring at a precarious tree spanning a creek in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere,
a little voice said “don’t do it”….
Did I mention it was 36 degrees?
“You’ve done it before, just reach out for that limb…”
my know-it-all husband instructs.
Easy for him to say, that limb is dangling over the water and he is a
bit taller than I am.
Cautiously I step out onto the tree, putting one
foot boot in front of another.
Making my way to the middle where the tree narrows.
That dangling branch was no where near my grasp.
Suddenly, and for reasons I know not, I begin to list to the left—
the left is where the tooth is missing, the left is where the camera dangles,
the left is where there is a deep murky water hole.
Suddenly I am chest deep in a cold creek stuck amongst a maze of gnarly limbs and vines.
Plus my left foot had sunk deep into the muddy bottom all the while as I’m flailing
my arms trying to get to the bank.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, there was a thankfulness that all snakes were
My husband had obviously raced back across without thought and was desperately
trying to yank me up the bank but my left foot, as it’s always the left,
was mired deep in the muddy bottom.
At this exact moment of panic, an image crosses my mind and no, it was not my
life flashing before my eyes, but it might as well have been.
Have you ever watched that show Life Below Zero on NATGEO?
That show about those hearty, perhaps more like fool hearty, souls who live
alone in the middle of nowhere Alaska, totally off the grid???
One sentiment rings true with each of those survivors…
‘if you get your feet wet out here, you’re as good as dead.’
Well, not only were my feet wet, I was immersed up to my chest in dark brown tannin
stained water, a maze of limbs and vines, with my left leg stuck deep in
the silty mud.
What seemed like an eternity was probably more like 2 minutes at best….
I got to the bank while my poor husband was trying to pull up a wet,
stuck, dead weight, mad as hell wife….
suddenly I realized my camera was now totally underwater.
I hear an out of body voice shouting.
“I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T WANT TO CROSS THE TREE!!!!!!”
Finally with my foot free from the mud, I keep telling my husband to let go and quit pulling and yanking cause he was crushing my head.
“LET GO, I’M OUT! I’M UP!!!”
And there I stood along the bank—
dripping like I had just popped up out of a refreshing summer pool…
a soaking wet dog in need of a good shake.
Water was now sloshing in my boots as I took a step.
My husband, now in a panic, just knew pneumonia was instantly setting in.
“Now he worries…gees” as I’m still muttering words I shan’t share here.
It was almost a mile back to the truck.
As he stands there just staring at me, I hear my own commanding voice
“Just start walking to the truck.”
Did I mention is was 36 degrees?
The only thing dry on me, if I may be candid, was my bra and head.
Once back at the truck, my boy scout of a husband thankfully had a towel
in the truck in case of emergencies.
And here was our emergency.
Right there in the woods, I began peeling off the layers of sopping wet and very
cold clothes as I no longer had feeling in my legs.
Bear Grylls voice was now drifting in my head…and thankfully I wasn’t going to
have to eat grubs or drink urine to survive…
but a nice camp fire would have been welcomed.
all shed as I wrapped the towel around me like a moo moo.
Did I tell you it was 36 degrees?
My husband is still just helplessly staring and sputtering…certain
I’m about the die immediately from consumption.
“Just get in the truck and drive” I grouse.
It was an hour or so drive home.
“But wonder if something happens or we get stopped and you’re just, just, just
sitting wrapped in a towel….???”
One look from me was enough to spur him back to reality and action.
Into the truck we got… with the heat now blowing just a fast as it could blow.
Thankfully we were not stopped and I got home in one piece to a hot shower with all the
muddy wet clothes going directly into the washer.
The camera, well, it is mostly like DOA
The moral of this little tale you ask?
Well, if you hear a little voice telling you not to cross a log,
don’t cross the log.
If you have a hole in your head and codeine in your system and see a log,
don’t cross the log.
And maybe, just maybe, a certain husband will one day actually listen when
the wise one speaks….
Oh, and always keep a towel in your vehicle, maybe even a change of clothes..
a bottle of bourbon wouldn’t hurt for those emergency and medicinal purposes…
since there was no St Bernard coming to my rescue…
Have a safe, dry, warm and happy New Year’s Day—-
I think I’ll just sit on the couch and watch a few good bowl game….