Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
I had a pretty good day today.
I engaged in a dangerous kitchen experiment, Jill and I met some new tree farming friends, Girlfriend got a long romp afield and I went out at the end of the day to go bow hunting.
I didn't see a a single deer.
What? You didn't see any deer? And you still had a good day?
Yep. I did.
Wasn't the second paragraph clear enough?
Let me explain.
I climbed into my favorite stand. My deer hunting compadres know which one this is. It's a tall stand directly over the creek and it has a nice view of the pond to the south to which the deer sometimes come for a drink. It also has a very nicely-cleared ambush zone to the north where the deer like to walk along the fire break. I spotted a half-dozen deer there a week ago but nary a soul today.
However, I enjoyed the zen-like experience of a babbling brook this afternoon.
It is unusual for the creek to be running this time of year. With three inches of rain in the last thirty-six hours it is running full bore.
I'm serious - the stand is directly over a flowing creek.
I got to thinking to myself - You know, Tom, if you were to suffer a fall from this stand you will land in the creek and break your neck and the official cause of your demise will be death by drowning while deer hunting. That is not going to do much for your reputation.
But that did not happen.
What did happen is a skein of geese flew overhead on their trip south with a raucous honking.
It was cool enough to not have to swat mosquitoes - yet not have to wear long underwear or a parka.
I observed a catbird feeding on some wild grapes below me. Assaulting me with an insistent - MEOW.
I spied a heretofore unnoticed elm tree growing along the creek bank. I thought to myself - That's cool. Not all the elms are dead.
I watched a magnificent sunset.
And as the sun set lower in the western sky, shadows lengthened and darkness fell the resident screech owl commenced with his hooting.
Walking back home in the dark I concluded what I had to do with one of the last fresh garden tomatoes, the goat cheese and the baby mozzarella.
Tonight would be pizza night.