the woodsman

Golfers on hole number one paid him no attention as he passed into their view and hiked to the railroad tracks.  His pace was brisk and the hot sun spurred him onward, making him anxious to reach the shade of Gabe’s comfortable abode in the woods.  It took him only seven minutes to reach the section where he would leave the tracks and climb down the embankment.  He noticed smoke rising from the area where Gabe hung out.  

Must be cooking something, Jack thought to himself.  

He made his way down the slope and crossed the section of tall grass beyond the number two green of the Ramsey Golf Course and into the patch of woods where he would find his brother.  

As Jack climbed up and then down the other side of the small ridge bordering the patch of woods, the pain from his bad hip began bothering him to the point where he had to stop and rest against a downed tree.  The trickling of the creek as it flowed past him, along with the calling back and forth between a couple of cardinals reminded him of how nature was never, very far away, and he understood, partially, why Gabe loved this place.

After a few minutes rest, his hip seemed better and he decided to sneak down to Gabe’s shelter.  

The old elm they had used as a fort when they were kids had long since rotted away, but fortunately, for Gabe, it’s place had been taken by a large cottonwood tree that had blown over during a tornado that had passed through the area five years before.  

Gabe had utilized the cottonwood in much the same way they had as kids when they transformed the elm into their fort.  The tree had created a natural cave area an adult could stand up in with the branches providing some shelter on the sides.  Gabe had then filled in the open spots with cut branches along those sides, making a sturdy shelter that kept out the rain and wind and afforded him the privacy he craved.

Sneaking along through low brush and smiling like a fool, Jack’s excitement grew.  I can’t believe I’m doing this.  Here I am fifty-seven years old and I’m moving through the woods like a kid playing games with my brother, he thought.

After he had covered the last fifteen feet between him and the shelter, he paused near the makeshift door Gabe had constructed.  As he reached for the handle, the door flew open with Gabe’s hand clamping onto his wrist.  Gabe’s hand had lashed out like a striking cobra and he quickly pulled Jack inside the doorway and into the shelter.  

“Don’t ever try sneaking up on me, bro.  You’ll just never, ever, do it successfully,” Gabe said as he smiled and shook his head, sending his long hair flowing from side to side and both of them burst out laughing.

“I should have known better,” Jack admitted.

“Yeah, well, grab a seat and I’ll pour us some weed.  It’s about five o’clock somewhere.” 

Jack looked at his watch.  It was only one in the afternoon, but he sat in one of the hand carved chairs Gabe had constructed out of logs he’d found in the woods.  The chairs were comfortable with a nice slant to the backs, and Jack had brought out cushions for the seats a couple of years before.  

Jack assumed a seat while Gabe poured a couple of shots into the glasses.  

“I saw the smoke.  What are you cooking?”

“Just finished, actually.  Had a nice plate of beans and franks.  Sorry, there’s nothing left.  If I had known you were coming I’d have saved you some.  Anyway, it helps keep the bugs away, too.”

“Nah, that’s okay.  I just came out to talk for a while so I had some lunch already.  I thought I’d check with you on our trip coming up.  BWCA, here we come!”