And the world? She kept spinning. I knew she would. I fell asleep 17 times Thursday night as I tried to write it. Seventeen is the limit. Seventeen is when I say, ‘no mas.’ If I wake up at 3:37, I’ll do it then. If not … maybe I’ll take Friday off.
Some of them came into play during that couple of days I didn’t check in for comments*.
The doe and me
On our way to the lake, I stepped into the woods because, well, nature called. I chose a lucky tree, unzipped, and felt one with the forest. I also felt eyes on me.
I looked up to see a kind and gorgeous doe looking me straight in the face. Mostly. She twitched her ears and looked me up and down again. What did she see in me? A new buck, marking his territory? An old stag, overstepping his bounds?
I zipped up, and at that, she bobbed her head, made three snorting sounds, and ran away.
Time will pass and years will fly by, mating seasons will come and go. But, that doe and me … we’ll always have McDowell Nature Preserve on Independence Day.
It’s about a fish we didn’t catch. But it was out of this world. A sign posted at the end of our crickety fishing pier in an alcove of Lake Wylie featured the image of a largemouth bass, the likes of which trolled deeper waters that we’d angle in.
We cast lines amid schools of bluegill and green sunfish and an occasional striped bass in the shallow waters before us.
The sign warned of mercury levels found in the larger bass found in the lake.