5:30 am

Essay by jacksodtCollege, Undergraduate February 2008

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5:30 A.M.; the temperature is 32°F. There is a brisk in the autumn air that softly takes my breath away. A dark mist of white foggy smoke covers the ground that I softly tip toe over. The leaves on the ground are crunching under my feet every step I take. Every exhale of breathe clouds my vision for it turns into a fog upon entering the chilled air. The darkness of the sky shows no sign of life, motion, or forgiveness. Birds are not chirping for they are elegantly resting in the swaying branches. Squirrels delicately scatter among the fallen branches which lay motionless entangled with one another.

As I exit my car it slowly begins to disappear in the darkness of the night behind me, I begin to feel alone. Emptiness fills my soul as icy chills run through my warm blooded veins. A crow passes overhead squawking as if it were talking to me and me alone for no other bird shows sign of answering.

I pass an intersection of trails telling me my tree is 150 yards away. My body is weighed down with this heavy equipment. My boots are covered in mud and my clothing covered with pricking burs. I feel as though if I am invincible concealed by the camouflage. As if my true identity is veiled from everything that stands before me. My headlamp illuminates my tree in the near distance. I begin to softly spray scents on shrub and tree tips as I get closer to my tree. As I assemble the cold, heavy and bulky tree stand equipment and enter into my tree of beauty, my body begins to relax and my heart lessens its pace. It is at this moment that I sit and wait. Sit and wait for hours for...