Whispers in the Pines

                   Whispers in the Pines
    My eyes slowly, begrudgingly  opened and my first thought was that I did not use wise judgement last night, again. That Saturday morning headache was back and all too real.  Coffee...I need coffee...lots of coffee.  There was enough life still in me to enjoy a breakfast of eggs, toast, aspirin and coffee and the next thing on the menu was air - lots of fresh air.  
   I decided to pack a small lunch of jerky, an apple, and a thermos of, yeah, coffee and head for the mid October woods, shotgun in hand, to see if I might flush out some grouse.  There was a huge stand of mature pines near home where I knew there was a chance of seeing some.  So it was there I went and before long the reason I needed fresh air was forgotten and things were right in the world once again.  
   After walking for awhile, I found a spot where the pine needles were thick and a stream lay just below me.  It seemed like a good place to sit for awhile and take it all in.  I was facing south, watching the sunlight flickering and dancing on the ripples of the water. Somewhere in the distance, crows were conveying the latest news of the valley to one another.  And then, the wind began to pick up, and the tall pines began to whisper to one another.
   I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but this time, this day, as my eyes slowly opened, my heart quickly started beating faster - no need for more coffee.  Her dark brown eyes were fixed on me, and since she was only 12 feet away, her eyes looked huge.  I didn't move, just sat motionless, wondering how long this moment would last.  Knowing something was wrong but not quite sure what, the doe stood just as motionless, waiting, watching. It was a beautiful moment that ended the second I lost our little staring contest by blinking.  Off she ran across the stream, disappearing into the trees on the other side.  And the wind whispered through the pines..... 
   It's moments like this that draw me into the world of the evergreen.  Where the forest floor is a carpet of soft brown pine needles.  Where the deer will find shelter under the dark green umbrella above.  Where the finch, chickadee, nuthatch, and the squirrel will nullify some of their hunger pains with the seed from the cones.  And most of all, for me, where the whispering of the pines seems to make the short journey from my ears to my heart, and add some of the everlasting to my years.