My Archaeologist is tried and true
with eyes that change
from grey to blue
depending on mood
and time of day
like the shifting waters
of the Atlantic
I met him ten years ago today, on a night when the moon was full and temperatures unseasonably warm. I met him in the middle, at Shenanigans between his house and mine, through a mutual friend. I liked him right away. Liked the way his teeth were not completely straight but angled slightly to the right; a genetic trait inherited from his mother. I liked his bald head, blue eyes, no nonsense style and knowledge of peoples and tribes long gone.
For two years before I met him I had begun to despair that I would ever find the one person I could spend the rest of my life with; being happy to share my love of woods, water, dogs - nature. I had started to compile a list of all the qualities that I wanted in him, making sure to list all the qualities I did not want as well. My list became very long and extremely specific - must above all love dogs, respect his mother, love camping, poetry, gardening, travel and his independence. Must have his own friends and interests, must have a steady job or rather career. Must love to be on or near water, like to cook, like my friends, be kind and funny, on and on and on. And everyday on my walks to the park or along the river I would recite my list. Whether walking Jordan's Branch Trail or Reedy Creek, not once but twice a day, I put it out to the Universe.
And then on an unseasonably warm February night when the moon was full and fluffy white clouds were racing across the sky, he walked into Shenanigans - the middle, between my little house on Clinton Avenue and his on Nottoway.
It was a lovely, slow courtship. We would agree to meet and walk together in the woods, Willa and Henry tagging along. He would come to my little house on Clinton with clipped Quince or Forsythia branches that were dormant, waiting to be placed in water to bloom their brilliant yellow flowers. Or a jar of tomatoes he had proudly grown and canned; and once he showed me how to find water with his "witchin sticks." He had an old Ford F150 that we would load up with gear, dogs and food - drive down to Frisco Woods in Hatteras and camp and fish. Or Kipptopeke State Park on the Chesapeake Bay where the days are golden mellow in late September and all the tourists have vacated the grounds.
As a young man he spent his life on the road with parents who are semi-nomadic. Traveling to places far and wide from the Canadian Rockies to the desserts of Mexico and later around South America, across Europe and as far as China. His love of nature and travel began shortly after his birth, when at the age of three months, his parents bundled him up along with his two older brothers and drove to Spruce Knob to spend a cold Thanksgiving at the 4 U Motel. I have a picture of him swaddled in a blanket and laid in the crevice of a rock, looking through bright blue eyes at the sky above.
In the woods or on the water, with him I am at home and at peace. Once at Smith Point, while fishing for Rockfish, we came upon a school of dolphin speeding beneath his little boat and revved the engine to keep up with them. It was a thrill I have not forgotten. That day he said my hair looked liked the colored of buttered toast and I thought that was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard.
He has shown me the flat lands and sage brush of New Mexico via steam train, the San Juan Mountains, the Dolomite's, the back roads that lead to Florence, the Apennines and wild, rugged "West by God Virginia" - one of our treasured camping spots. He knows more about tribes, Forestry, land use, the origins of food, mechanical things, carpentry and gardening than anyone I know. He is quite possibly the brightest, most thoughtful, generous person I have ever met. And he is mine.
Together we have created gardens in our back yard, renovated his old four square house, started a business, worked on ideas for fundraisers and helped others in need. We have traveled thousands of miles and seen breathtaking vistas and ancient sites. We talk of travels yet to be taken when the pets we love are no longer with us and our responsibilities are no longer so overwhelming.
I have told my friends should a natural disaster ever occur, I would be in the best hands possible. He can make fire from sticks and flint, find water with divining rods, make traps and fish. He has a wealth of knowledge about herbs and trees, can build a shelter and "live off the fat of the land." He must have been a Native American in his past life - at one with nature, using only what is necessary and revering the land for its abundance and beauty. He carries that with him now as an archaeologist, environmental scientist and guardian of preservation.
For ten years we have shared this journey, seen amazing red sunsets, marveled at stars shooting in the blackest night sky in Brigands Bay and walked against the cold, bracing winds to sit along the water's edge - just to take in the beauty of day turning into night. And should no tragedy befall us, a lifetime of travels, experiences and happiness awaits with our dogs, in the woods or on the water - together.
.
As a young man he spent his life on the road with parents who are semi-nomadic. Traveling to places far and wide from the Canadian Rockies to the desserts of Mexico and later around South America, across Europe and as far as China. His love of nature and travel began shortly after his birth, when at the age of three months, his parents bundled him up along with his two older brothers and drove to Spruce Knob to spend a cold Thanksgiving at the 4 U Motel. I have a picture of him swaddled in a blanket and laid in the crevice of a rock, looking through bright blue eyes at the sky above.
In the woods or on the water, with him I am at home and at peace. Once at Smith Point, while fishing for Rockfish, we came upon a school of dolphin speeding beneath his little boat and revved the engine to keep up with them. It was a thrill I have not forgotten. That day he said my hair looked liked the colored of buttered toast and I thought that was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard.
He has shown me the flat lands and sage brush of New Mexico via steam train, the San Juan Mountains, the Dolomite's, the back roads that lead to Florence, the Apennines and wild, rugged "West by God Virginia" - one of our treasured camping spots. He knows more about tribes, Forestry, land use, the origins of food, mechanical things, carpentry and gardening than anyone I know. He is quite possibly the brightest, most thoughtful, generous person I have ever met. And he is mine.
Together we have created gardens in our back yard, renovated his old four square house, started a business, worked on ideas for fundraisers and helped others in need. We have traveled thousands of miles and seen breathtaking vistas and ancient sites. We talk of travels yet to be taken when the pets we love are no longer with us and our responsibilities are no longer so overwhelming.
I have told my friends should a natural disaster ever occur, I would be in the best hands possible. He can make fire from sticks and flint, find water with divining rods, make traps and fish. He has a wealth of knowledge about herbs and trees, can build a shelter and "live off the fat of the land." He must have been a Native American in his past life - at one with nature, using only what is necessary and revering the land for its abundance and beauty. He carries that with him now as an archaeologist, environmental scientist and guardian of preservation.
For ten years we have shared this journey, seen amazing red sunsets, marveled at stars shooting in the blackest night sky in Brigands Bay and walked against the cold, bracing winds to sit along the water's edge - just to take in the beauty of day turning into night. And should no tragedy befall us, a lifetime of travels, experiences and happiness awaits with our dogs, in the woods or on the water - together.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment