I'll bet you've heard that marriage changes people for better or worse. Or at least I think that's how the saying goes? Let me tell you a story. I'm a very feminine girl. I love scented candles, bouquets of flowers, accent pillows and the color pink. I love jewelry and nail polish, the smell of potpourri and pretty pictures hanging on the walls in my home and I'll admit I've come full circle with what I'm about to tell you but there was a time when I wondered if I'd make it all the way around.
You see, unbeknownst to me, I married an avid sportsman. When I met my husband he lived in Atlanta Georgia and I knew he liked to fish but I really wasn't prepared for the outdoor enthusiast I would come to know, both after marriage and after our move to Northern Michigan. I must admit, it never occurred to me why he wasn't hunting in Atlanta until he explained to me that living in the middle of a metropolis just doesn't lend itself to good hunting. Go figure?
Once we moved to Petoskey Michigan things rapidly began to change. For example, if we were running into town to do some light shopping, my husband would take us on a strange, roundabout way through the countryside to get there. I'd think, "Why did he come this way?" Only to realize he was looking for those turkeys I'd been hearing about. To make matters worse, while we were in town he seemed to be hauling me from one sporting goods store to the next. I found I was spending at least an hour or more a week watching him scan the hunting and fishing isles. At times I felt like crawling inside one of those pre-assembled tents the sporting goods stores set up for people to explore and wondered if he'd realize I was gone. I can't deny that I even thought about taking a nap in one of those tents from time to time.
At home he was reviewing state maps for available hunting grounds, reorganizing his hunting gear, cleaning out his tackle boxes and covering the table in colorful fishing lures. Which by the way, if your husband asks you why you need so many pairs of shoes, ask him why he needs so many fishing lures. Over the course of time I realized I wasn't even using the calendar on the wall to keep track of the seasons anymore. Nope, I just needed to know what was, "In season," to know what season we were celebrating and where my husband might be. I also found myself surprised as I began to anticipate each season with excitement. I was coming around the circle. Of course, if I saw my husband walking around with his bow, I knew the leaves would soon start to change color. When he talked about sighting in his rifle, I knew the snow would be flying soon. If he was setting his alarm to get up before dawn, he was meeting the guys to go duck hunting. The pattern was endless and I'll admit, for years I didn't know what season, was when, but eventually I had it mastered. In this I took a lot of pride. Of course one time in a moment of hurriedness, I did make a slight fool of myself as I tried to wish my husband good luck before he raced out the door. "Good luck bear hunting. I mean deer hunting. I mean duck hunting,.. oh whatever, "Good luck!"
None of this really bothered me, I mean, it did and it didn't. No woman wants a deer with antlers roaming the countryside to be more desirable than she is but in Northern Michigan, it's inevitable and more than likely, it's going to happen. So when did it bother me you ask? Well, never really, I was still coming along the circle. Remember? However, when he started eyeing my home decor, that's when I started to get nervous. One day he called me on his way home from as estate auction to let me know he'd picked up some beautifully framed art work. "Great," I thought. Until he revealed to me the pictures were of turkeys and ducks.
When our daughter was just 3, we woke to a beautiful snow-covered Christmas morning. My husband handed a present to our little girl. I asked who it was from? He winked at me and said, "Santa!" As the wrapping paper fell away and the box was pried open, out came pink camo pjs. "How cute," I said. "That Santa is really clever, isn't he honey?" And so it began. When our son was born the writing was on the wall. "This is going to take us to a whole new level," I thought. His first bib? You guessed it. Camo. When my 8-year-old son asked Santa for a life-sized deer decoy I had to interject that I didn't think that would be possible for Santa to bring on his sleigh. Of course my husband chimed in, "Oh honey don't be ridiculous, Santa can do that." Sure enough on Christmas morning there stood a life-sized deer with a big red ribbon around his neck.
"Look dad, it's a 10 point!" My son said of excitement.
"Santa brought that down the chimney?" I said to my husband. "Wow, I'm sorry I missed that!" I said exasperated.
So as you can see, I was definitely being changed. At times I thought for worse, at times I realized for better but I would be lying if I said being married to a outdoor enthusiast was a bad thing. After all, there's never a dull season around here. This kind of lifestyle is certainly full of surprises and very interesting days to say the least. You'd like a, "for example?" How about the time I had to help my husband haul those trapped beavers out of the woods. That was certainly surprising, not something I honestly saw myself ever doing.
Each and every year sitting down at the table for his annual, "Game feast," is always interesting and surprising, for my taste buds that is. But I did come full circle. Surprisingly, I completed the cycle, and in the end you won't believe it but I'm happy. My kids are happy. Who knew being married to, "Mr. Outdoors!" Would turn out to be for better and not for worse. Thank you Northern Michigan! Your lush harvest of gaming lands, fishing pools and sunsets make life worth living.
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