Some of my fondest memories are wrapped up in the smell of fall: a wood stove, a pot of beans simmering and hand warmers being filled with fuel.
There was a huge table that we all sat around at deer camp. After supper, plans were made for the next morning’s hunt. Long before dawn we would roll out from under warm covers to pull on layers of warmth and hunting boots. An ancient jeep would climb hills and cross creeks to unload all of us into our appropriate deer stands. With any luck, that afternoon we’d head to the local processing plant to leave the morning’s bounty. And weeks later, there would be suppers of deer sausage and back strap.
I’m grateful, beyond measure, for the experiences I had as the daughter of deer hunting parents.