cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Clenched Grinning I have a bunch of old entries from the last week to add. Oops. Meanwhile I'm typing in this one. Two more days of work at a desk, in an office and on a schedule. Today Bob and I pulled off the wheels of the trailer to get new tires put on them tomorrow. I've still got to stitch up a tear in the canvas, make some slip covers for the cushions and pound the bumper into shape. We leave in exactly 2 weeks. Today I bought 2 swim suits for the trip to Florida. On my way home I crossed a bridge and saw a creek running below. I pulled over on the shoulder on the other side of the bridge and got out with my backpack and fishing rod. I walked past discarded roadside deer spines and tires down the embankment to the sandy shore and there I cast my line in the shallow water beneath the bridge. My third cast was met with the strange sensation of something resisting my efforts to reel the line back in. Inexplicably, a fish had decided to grab the lure and hook and it fought hard. I reeled in a fair 11 inch large mouth bass. The bass and I marched back up the hillside a scant 3 or 4 minutes after I'd walked down. I drove the 5 miles home. Gutted and scaled the fish in a few minutes on a stump beside the house. I cut and broke a pile of dead wild grape vines I'd pruned last spring. As the wood of the grape vines smoldered I drizzled some olive oil inside of the whole fish and stuffed the cavity with an intact bunch of wild grapes. I wrapped the body of the fish in broad, green grape leaves. When the fire had burned down to orange embers with rare flickers of yellow flame I laid the fish wrapped thus over the coals and cooked it there. When one eye turned a thick milky white I turned the fish over and cooked the other side until that eye turned to the same solid milky white. I ate the fish directly off of the bone with a fork, touching it with no more than a squeeze of lime juice, a dash of salt, and the slightest bit of olive oil on my plate. I drank a glass of yesterday's cheap shiraz as the sun sank. Bob and I prepare for the trip. We speak of packing axle bearings, legal limits on the size of spiny lobsters and the comparative merits of various snorkels. Yesterday I finally mounted a scope on Ida's single shot .22 rifle. Her shooting dramatically improved, right away. She has been shooting with open sights since she was 4 years old. I thought she had done her apprenticeship with open sights and it was time for her to move on up. Every shot yesterday was a bullseye. I have every confidence that she will be ready and able to take her first deer this season. She is 6 years old and will be 7 in December. But Ida is not like most 6 year olds. She's been shooting rifles since she was four. Firearm safety is first nature to her. She is not bad with a pistol. Ida has 2 or 3 pocket knives and has never contrived to cut herself or anyone else. She has helped me to gut and butcher many deer, a few turkeys, squirrels and fish. Ida takes tae quon do. We work on archery and throwing knives sometimes. I teach her how to walk silently and read sign in the woods. Woodcraft, making fire. She is also taking after school classes on gymnastics and the Chinese language. I intend that she will find, on growing up, that she is intensely capable of many things. The other children at school sometimes accuse of of lying. She speaks of doing things that are perfectly ordinary for her and I, but other kids and teachers cannot possibly imagine a 6 year old girl having such a life at home. Building things and going hunting and making fires and butchering deer and coming to bars with me to watch the World Cup. She is not an ordinary child. I am listening to Current 93 as I write this. 'Song for Douglas.' Neither Ida nor I are plausible people. If we did not exist, no one would believe it. Tomorrow my show is being pitched to Animal Pl@net in a formal way. My producer is more nervous than I am. He thinks that there is some sort of doubt in this whole thing. I am beyond doubt. I am clenched grinning and staring into the teeth of this wind. 10:12 p.m. - 2010-08-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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