All of my life I have been told, the older you get the faster life passes. If time moves any faster than 2017 has, I’ll completely miss a year soon. The jars of pear preserves for the winter are neatly stacked in the pantry. They patiently await their place on the lazy Susan when that first push of cold arctic air finds its way south and the biscuits are placed on the table. An unbelievable corn crop is ready for harvest with cotton and soybeans soon to follow. My tomatoes are beginning to slow down producing and the fruit, though still delicious, are much smaller than a month ago. These are just a few telltale signs that fall is approaching and it’s time for another season of Outdoors in the Sun.
Last year I dedicated the first article of the season to my dad with his passing a year ago in May. Sadly, this past March, my mom lost a 10-year battle to cancer. She played as much a part of my outdoor life as my dad did. She may not have taught me how to cluck to a gobbler at dawn, or how to lead a dove, or tell the difference between the track of a fox and coyote, but her influence had a profound effect on what I feel for the woods and our waters and nature. With that said, I dedicate this season of Outdoors in the Sun, to my mom, Carol M. North.
Some of you knew my mom, many of you didn’t. By relating a few stories about her though, I bet you will understand her love for nature and how supportive she was of the outdoor heritage I grew up in. In fact, I hope to rekindle fond memories that will take you back to those special times with your family and those special times to come.
I think my mother looked forward to turkey season almost as much as my dad and I did. She might have seemed frustrated at the clucks and yelps that resonated throughout our home in March, but deep down she knew how much we loved it. She would roll her eyes when I asked where my gloves were and had she seen my box call. Of course she would drop what she was doing and help me search out those hidden necessities. She also knew with the arrival of turkey season, the redbud and dogwood would bloom. Her backyard was her sanctuary and how it would flourish with color each spring.
In my college days I began turkey hunting a lot with Judge Jim Smith, of Brandon. Each year she would make a gallon bag of the most wonderful sugar cookies you have ever tasted the day before season opened. I would place them on the back seat of my bronco and Jim would bring a thermos of coffee each morning. After our hunt, I would reach for the bag of cookies and he would pour the coffee. We would discuss the outcome of our hunt, both those that were successful and those that were not. One year, about 10 days into the season I asked her if she would make me a bag of cookies. She quickly answered that she had just made me one. Of course, I related to her that we had been hunting really hard and the supply had diminished. She reached for her flour and yellow mixing bowl and went to work with a smile on her face.
I’ll never forget the Easter morning when I returned from a quick hunt just a few miles from home. I walked in and she was standing in the kitchen in her robe and her hair full of curlers. She whipped her head around and with a stern voice said, “You know it’s Easter don’t you?” Yes ma’am I replied, I’m going to get a shower and I’ll be ready for church. She snapped back with a quick, “Well, I would hope so.” You should have seen the look on her face when I asked her to take a picture of my gobbler before I hopped in the shower. It was classic.
Mom always checked the ducks I cleaned to make sure it was to her specifications. No fileted ducks were allowed in her freezer. Picked teal, mallards and wood ducks would only do for mom. Each venison loin and squirrel was inspected with a fine toothed comb. She knew what she was doing when it came to frying quail and squirrels with biscuits and gravy.
She never failed to listen to the details of our hunts with great enthusiasm. You could tell from her smile that she was truly happy for us when we brought something home. She completed our adventures with snacks and a fire when dad and I returned from the swamps. My college buddies always talked about her “tater” pie when they came home with me on weekends to hunt.
Have you drifted back to fond memories of your mom after reading this? I hope your mom is still with you to enjoy every day you have with her. If she is, pick a bouquet of butterfly milkweed and take it to her. Ask her if she would make you a batch of those crispy sugar cookies. Smile with her when she tells you to take those muddy boots off. Learn how to make duck dressing the way “mom” does. We all have a timeline in this life. We know not our path, but we have one. Make the most of it. You’ll be proud mom, I added extra sugar to the pear preserves this year, just for you. Jan and I miss you and love you. This season is for you.
Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
