Blogtober 6 : An Autumn Memory

 

Cow moose and calf seen on our trip to the Yukon three years ago.

My husband used to hunt. He loved to go to the Willow River area where his grandparents had farmed. We would get up very early, pack a lunch and a thermos of hot tea and drive for an hour, arriving just as the first faint light touched the horizon. We parked the car and began walking along the remnants of an old corduroy road towards Sam's Field. Tim remembered the field as a productive piece of land, but now it was abandoned and beavers had overtaken it, creating a boggy place beloved to moose.         

Fog softened the landscape and the only sound was our feet tramping along the muddy path. Suddenly Tim motioned for me to be still. Across the field a moose materialized in the mist, ethereal yet solid. Surprisingly quiet for such a large creature, she picked her way across the field, raising spindly legs with a graceful delicacy that surprised me. We stood and watched her for several minutes. I was glad when Tim said the moose was female, thus protected from a hunter’s bullet.

We had no camera, yet the sight of the moose appearing in the early morning fog is a memory as clear as yesterday. It was a gift to us, one that we talk about together from time to time.            

Today was spent at home, doing a little housework and sewing. A walk in the sunshine was lovely. I scuffed through fallen leaves, dry and crisp, caught on the roadside. The forecast ahead is full of similar days. 

The dahlias seen here are blooming in Butchart Gardens, where I visited last week.  

Aren't they stunning? 

Just a note: When Tim was able to successfully hunt, we ate the moose meat. It has a slightly stronger taste and needs to be cooked low and slow.