19 April 2008

Woke up to the rain weaving its way through the labyrinthine bramble and the smell of a fire put out by the soft morning dew. The sound of eggs frying on a stove made out of stone and rock shards.

I love the way the cool air chills your bones just in time for the fire to swoop down and warm you up. Like driving with the top down in January with the heat on full blast. Warming our dreams within a dense growth of softwoods.

Counting the stars through a miraculous canopy of evergreen needles or editing our dreams in sleeping bags snuggled in the snowcapped fir woodlands of the northwest.

A white-tail deer enters our little neighbourhood and pensively peeks around. We are still and in awe of this beautiful creature letting it have full reign over our campsite. Hoping she’ll nuzzle her nose under our backpacks and find a candy bar to eat. Grazing and browsing our supplies looking for something different. Everyday she finds leaves, grass, buds, berries, bark, wild grapes, apples, acorns, herbs, twigs, sprouts, corn sumae, clovers, red mangrove, black mangrove, indian mulberry, silver palm, and sometimes thatch palm. I remembered reading their favourite treat was raspberry cane and so silently I wished I had some for her sweet soul.

The white tail deer are quiet and brave. She never gives us her full confidence, always has one hoof ready to take off into the pine thickets even as she buries her sweet caramel snout into our bags, one of her ears is surely trained on our movements.

But we’re holding our breath, hoping she finds it all. Wishing she could speak. Wishing we could take her home.

Drunk on the smell of sweet evergreen, we.

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