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It's that time of year when Mel gets out the lumber, saws, and nails and devotes an inordinate amount of time hammering on deer blinds and tree stands. The flurry of activity is preceded by setting up deer feeders, surrounded by little makeshift fences of steel posts and barbed wire, followed by weekly visits to the deer camp to put out feed.
"Jist thought Ah'd let you know Ah wrote a check for a li'l over a hunnerd dollars to the hardware store fer a few more thangs we needed," Mel announced.
"You're spending money like it's going out of style," I said. "You keep on, and we'll have to move into one of those deer blinds."
I squinted at my husband. He looked like a reverse raccoon_gritty face with white circles around his eyes where his sunglasses had deflected the dirt that covered the rest of him.
"You look like you've been digging tunnels instead of building deer stands," I observed. "I sure hope your tetanus shot hasn't expired."
"A li'l dirt never hurt nobody," Mel said, planting a grimy kiss on my cheek. "See there?"
An hour later, I heard my husband banging around in the garage. I took a peek and he was arranging and measuring sheets of plywood. Next, he put a two-by-four across a couple of sawhorses and started sawing off one end with a hand saw. He appeared to be trying to make it fit onto some kind of frame he was building. He threw it down. Then I heard him grunt, "Cut the dang thang off twice an' it's still too short" as he retrieved a longer one and measured it several times before making his cut.
By now, the sweat was pouring, and Mel was dripping mudballs. I poured him a glass of ice water and delivered it to him with a towel.
"You could make yoreself useful an' hold this nail fer me whahl Ah hold this here together," Mel suggested.
"Are you kidding? You've got two flat thumbs, you've mashed them so many times. Why would I want to give you a chance to smash mine?"
I left my husband to his own devices. After a lot more banging, slamming, mumbling and a few words I can't print, Mel completed his masterpiece. He fitted it with little sliding plexi-glass windows, carpet on the floor, and had slapped several shades of green and brown paint on the outside for camouflage.
"What d'ya thank?"
"Looks pretty shoddy to me," I said. "You sure it's sturdy enough for a big guy like you?"
"Shoot, I reckon," Mel beamed.
"Maybe I should up your accidental death policy, just in case," I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows playfully. "You don't plan on putting this up on a windmill tower, do you? I mean no offense, but I worry that you're getting a little too old and a little too heavy to climb up and down one of those things. Couldn't you just put it on the ground somewhere, close to the edge of a cliff or overlooking a canyon where you'd still be up high?"
Mel paused for a moment and said, "It'd be a whole lot easier for you to claim it was a accident if Ah fell from a tower blind than tryin' to cover up 'em ruts an' skid marks whur you pushed me over the cliff."
