Duck Hunt

As of last week, I am a hunter. Actually, I am not. I have gone duck hunting twice thus far, and have the day off today and plan on going this afternoon. Duck hunting for me involves canoeing down a lazy river while Case looks for ducks, or walking in the most pristine rivers and woods of Maine.

The first hunt was along the Royal River in North Yarmouth. Case, Folsom, and I set out in a rickety canoe that Casey found abandoned and almost drowned recovering it. We met a beaver who display his power and aggression by slapping his tail in the water and running away like a pansy. The sun set before we ever saw a duck, but we got to witness dusk on the water and a slightly scary docking in the dark.

My second hunt was on foot in Windham/Gorham area along the Presumpscot River. We passed along little paths leading to obvious summer ragers. The remains of many a bonfire and drunken summer night reminded me of the changing season. Although I was bundled and dressed for "the hunt," I could feel cold air sneaking up under my clothing and the chill on my face. Once again, we did not see a duck, and we did not shoot. My favorite spot of this hunt was an old bridge. It is the oldest bridge in Old Falmouth (which is now Windham, Gorham, and most towns in Cumberland County). The covered wooden bridge across the river has not seemed to change at all. While walking across it, I felt like I could be back in 1843.

In conclusion, I am a hunter if it means I get to explore the outdoors and see life and beauty with Casey's company. I am sure that today Casey will actually shoot a duck, and I will be slightly scarred, but for now, I am enjoying the experience.

Fall is for falling

There is nothing like a New England Fall, of this I am certain. Last year I missed the fall when I was studying abroad in Spain, and so I'm appreciating it more than ever this year. I find myself slipping out of my sleepy downtown studio early in the morning and walking. I love to bundle up in a scarf and a cute Fall coat with a warm cup of tea in hand. Actually, right now I am enjoying a pumpkin latte at my favorite coffee shop, conveniently located on my block. Before writing this, I was looking up recipes for Fall soups, apple crisps, and pumpkin pancakes. I am just a Fall junky. I love the clothing, food, the trees bursting into color, and the way the crisp air makes me feel alive. My friend Evie told me that if I talk about the trees one more time she will kill me, but I cannot stop. I love Fall. I love it.

I think growing up surrounded by apple orchards started my love for Fall. I love that the treetops touch over the road, framing my perfect little world. You can smell the apples ripening and the cider being made as you walk down my crooked, country road during apple season. Any other time of the year, my street is vacant. You may see the occasional road bike gang, but on most days, I might just be the last human on the planet. Not during apple season. Families, kids, and pets flood the orchards. There is life.

I find myself feeling that "new love" feeling as I walk through downtown Portland. I don't have the will power to abstain from speaking rapidly and incessantly about my love, so Evie, and any other person who wants to kill me for my redundancy, just remember, winter is coming and then I will be heartbroken over my lost love. Let my love spell run its course.