The woods are calling as summer approaches

A bunch of baby sheep have just begun life on a farm not far from me and there is nothing more adorable and, if they’re lucky, the creatures will spend their lives happily, being sheared on occasion, rather than ending up on someone’s dinner plate. And everywhere are calves, mostly black Aberdeen Angus. Based upon the name, one knows the cattle originated in Scotland, more specifically northeast Scotland, a gorgeous part of the world favored by British Royalty. It wasn’t until the mid-20th century that Angus cattle began showing up around here. These days they are ubiquitous.

Last week I awoke one morning at 4 a.m. and, unable to get back to sleep, I turned toward a window where a religious sort of light streamed in. It was from sunlight reflecting off a moon hanging low in the western sky and I wish I could tell you that I lay there conjuring great thoughts, but alas, I have neither great thoughts, nor have I held the keys to much of anything. No, I lay on my left side, my cats curled up behind me on the quilt, my head devoid of thought, just enjoying the moment, and I apologize for writing a paragraph about not much.

I can see summer from here and it looks terrific. Bow saws and axes in the garage await my touch. This year I may splurge on new implements, as I have used and sharpened the old ones for 30 years. I’ll return to the woods, something I’ve not done regularly for a long while, a place overflowing with peace and time, the only sound coming when my ax connects with a dead tree or saw-teeth work through wood.

Last week I drove a high ridge to a nearby town. Sinatra was on the radio singing something about “All of Me,” and I was on my way to pick up a bit of precooked ham. I must report that my Easter ham sandwich was delicious, fresh cheddar cheese, newly baked bread, a bit of my favorite condiment, horseradish, and a couple of kosher dill pickles.

Not exactly traditional, but tradition is rooted in past reality and my reality has changed dramatically in recent years and I’ve come to realize that all we really own is the past, which causes me to think odd thoughts when these religious days come rolling around, thoughts like a question I’ve pondered since childhood. “If Christ rose again after three days shouldn’t we be celebrating Easter on Monday?”

Religion reminds me of an odd encounter I had a few weeks back and, before I tell you about it, I need to tell you that many out here like to search for “sheds,’” sheds being the antlers of male deer that are dropped sometime over the winter. Deer shed their antlers annually and no one knows why. It’s an interesting bit of biology. Anyway, it was a sunny afternoon, I think a Sunday, and my doorbell rang. At the door was a young guy who smiled, said hello, and then asked, “By God’s grace would it be OK to look for sheds on your property?” That was a new one for me. Many years ago I might have responded with something sarcastic but these days it simply doesn’t matter. I’m an old man, alone and happy to chat with others, even if I’m saying, “No.” May God grant him grace and peace on his journey, even if that journey doesn’t include my woods.

Kurt Ullrich lives in rural Jackson County. His book “The Iowa State Fair” is available from the University of Iowa Press.