Halfway through the fourth and final month of the hunting season, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.
In a couple of weeks, I’ll no longer be able to answer “Yep” when Barb asks me if I’m hunting that day. Instead, I’ll have to go into detail about the projects around the house that require my attention: the ceiling that’s falling in; the floors that need refinishing; the light fixtures that need replaced.
It’s an endless list that keeps growing.
But since the first of September, my wonderful wife has given me a pass.
“Hunt all you want,” she says.
She didn’t used...