It was only 11 in the morning and already the sun was hot.
I didn’t want to leave the cool canopy of the oaks on the wash.
But I had already pushed my luck to the limit.
It was time to get back to the task at hand–glassing the hills for those all-too-elusive deer.
Deer Hunt Glassing in Canyon
Are you here to photograph or are you here to help me find deer?
Poof! Just like that, at the sound of my husband’s stern whisper, my hair-brained thought about entering that mine shaft evaporated. And it was a good thing.
Of course, I answered. I just wanted to get a shot or two of this mine.
Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, I leave with my husband for the wilderness to…HUNT.
Yes, I said, hunt.
I can’t believe it either. The fact he wants me to go along is mind-boggling because, well, he knows me. I’m the kind of gal that can’t travel down the road 50 miles without having to pull over to see the world’s largest ball of string, or stop and do something. So I can’t quite figure out, after all these years, why he would want me “out there” with him, wherever “there” is.